


A Social Arrangement

by BitKahuna



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Domestic Fluff, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Forced Marriage, Frottage, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Neck Kissing, Slow Burn, Virgin Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2020-10-04 16:02:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 45
Words: 143,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20473742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitKahuna/pseuds/BitKahuna
Summary: After a small scandal surrounding the Death Eater trials, Harry finds himself in the crosshairs of Lucius Malfoy, but he isn't the only victim of the man's rage. With the scandal as an excuse, Lucius delves into old law and finds revenge in arranging a marriage between Harry and Draco.Despite this, both go on to make their own paths in life. Harry finds himself in Wizengamot, trying to undo Voldemort-era mistakes and ensure they can't happen again. Draco explores things that were never allowed in Malfoy Manor and takes up writing his first novel.With their unfortunate marriage forcing them to live under one roof, they find that they're far too exhausted to keep up with old bickering and feuds. They're too tired to be angry and find that the other isn't as bad as they remembered.





	1. Oath of Fealty

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is based off of this ingenious Tumblr post : https://gotham-mother-of-monsters.tumblr.com/post/145114655110/
> 
> WARNING : This work will contain a few mild symptoms of mental illness that I'm portraying from my own experience. They won’t appear often, but if reading about these topics will effect you, you might want to read something else.

If someone were to ask him about the last three months of his life, Harry Potter would have absolutely nothing to say.

Truthfully, he wasn’t even sure what had happened. It was all a blur to him. Sounds, colors, shapes, blankness, exhaustion, tears, and the occasional warm summer breeze. Speaking as a witness in the trials of different Death Eaters, going to funerals, helping Ron and Hermione move into their own place, looking for a place of his own, and taking care of the Weasley household while they mourned the loss of Fred. If he wasn’t busy, he mostly sat around, staring at nothing in particular for long periods of time. He did take his time to mourn: he cried, he got angry, he wished he had done better, he wished he had died in the forest, he wished he had never been born, but most of all, he took his time to heal. The entire household did.

It was hard and it hurt like hell, but after the summer had come and gone, things weren’t as bad as before. The people of that home showed their open wounds to each other.

They cried together, talked, and there was no judgement or hate, only openness and forgiveness. They all wanted to heal and they did it together.

September came and Ron entered a training program to become an Auror, Hermione took up an internship at the Ministry, Ginny went back to Hogwarts, and everyone else returned to their lives before the war. Everyone except Harry. Harry realized he was the only one whose life centered almost completely around the war. He was born to die in it, and without that, he wasn't sure what he was meant to do with himself. So he stuck around a while longer. Although he was halfway moved in to his own house, he stayed for Molly. Sometimes, she just couldn’t cook or clean, and without saying a word, Harry would silently get it done for her. He was used to doing so much more, and he felt like he owed her for all the kindness the Weasleys had shown him. Though it sometimes took them by surprise, no one said a word when Harry was the one serving dinner, or when they walked in to see him cleaning. Just silent nods and an unspoken gratitude. Harry preferred it that way.

When the Death Eater trials finished and the dead were buried, Harry spent most of his time at the Burrow. If he wasn't helping Molly keep the house, he was sitting outside, just breathing and feeling the warm sun. He was so tired that sometimes the warmth of the sun was all he could feel anymore, the only thing reminding him that he was alive. The outside became his own little bubble away from the world, a place where he could be alive. He decided he liked the warmth of the sun, he liked the slow-moving clouds in the sky, he liked the plants, the songs of the birds, the rustle of trees, he liked the air, he felt like he could finally breathe. It was nice.

His only anxiety left in life became The Quibbler. The newspaper was doing some sort of huge exposé on the Death Eater trials; listing every trial, all the charges, and their outcomes all in one mass article. Molly had made the decision that one Saturday, they should all get together and read it. She thought it would be good for them to all be together, to hear the crimes, and to know the bad guys were getting justice. To know it was finally over.

It took very little convincing for McGonagall to let Ginny return to her home one Saturday afternoon to be with her family.

They all crowded into the little sitting room while Arthur slowly read out the entire list. “Bellatrix Lestrange, née Black, currently deceased, on the charges of multiple counts of murder, torture, the use of unforgivable curses, and being a Death Eater. Verdict, guilty. Punishment has been forgone due to the accused being deceased. Titles and properties to be dissolved by Gringotts Bank.” Somehow, that got the entire room to feel at ease for the first time in forever. Molly even let a small smile slip.

“Titles and properties to be dissolved by Gringotts Bank.” preceded the trial of everyone with a Dark Mark. It was strange to hear it at the end of trials where the accused had children who hadn’t taken the Dark Mark, and therefore, should be given their parent's belongings. Although nobody questioned it, the occasional confused expression revealed that everyone in the room was curious about it.

After the trials were read out, Arthur skimmed a bit before finding something else of interest, “Ah, since the start of the Death Eater trials, Gringotts Bank has been incapable of bequeathing the titles and properties of Death Eaters onto the next of kin. This is due to the newly revealed nature of vows taken by followers of Voldemort. Said vows were based off of the ancient Oaths of Fealty, which have been unused for centuries. Originally, the aforesaid oaths were made between a vassal and lord, in which the lord would give the vassal property in exchange for loyalty. This modified version, sealed with the Dark Mark, swore loyalty to Voldemort with titles and property as collatera-” Arthur cut himself off, staring at the newspaper in disbelief. He silently read ahead for a few seconds before backtracking to catch the rest of the room up.

“Right, it says the oaths pledge loyalty, with the titles and properties of the entire House, as collateral. That even includes individual vaults at Gringotts, all surrendered to Voldemort. Does that ..... does that make sense to everyone?” He glanced around the room to see small nods. “Well it seems that, uhm, with the loss of the war the oaths were considered broken; twenty-two families have lost everything. It’s caused a problem in Wizengamot as much of their peerage were Death Eaters, or related to Death Eaters. They’ve been operating with a vast majority of their members temporarily replaced, since titles apparently included their place in Wizengamot.” Arthur actually managed a laugh at that. It was quite a ridiculous situation.

Arthur read ahead once again, this time with a satisfied smile on his face. “So the goblins've been looking through the old laws to try to figure out what to do with the titles and property, since Voldemort is dead and heirless. Ah, the article brings up how the oaths and laws used by Voldemort are incredibly outdated and haven’t been used in centuries. It mentions that Minister Shacklebolt plans to revisit the old laws and have them dissolved so this can’t happen again.” He read ahead some more, intending to summarize the next section of the article, until he read something that made him go pale.

His expression snapped into that of shock as he reread the same few lines over and over, trying to process it.

The room was filled with a dreadful curiosity.

“Apparently,” he began quite awkwardly, “with the use of such old property laws, the goblins of Gringotts have looked into old legislation for a legal solution, and have decided that the only legal answer is the implementation of the right of conquest.”

There was a mixed reaction. Everyone looked as shocked as Arthur; besides George, Ron, and Harry; who had no clue what “right of conquest” meant. Although Harry was developing a sense of dread about it, as most eyes in the room went to him, giving looks of sympathy and sorrow.

“And what does that mean?” Harry's tone wasn’t curious in the slightest. It was stale and tired. This was nothing more to him than yet another mess he had to deal with.

Molly spoke up and explained it as simply as she could, “It’s an old practice. It, along with those oaths, were long forgotten about as both fell out of fashion. They’re both leftovers from centuries ago. Stolen from Muggle society, really.” It was obvious that she was making a small attempt at delaying the inevitable. Sparing Harry just a few more seconds of peace before she had to tell him the truth. “It’s the right to take property by force of arms.”

Harry’s eyes slowly widened as he realized what that meant. “So all the stuff that Voldemort got from his Death Eaters ..... I now own? Because I killed him?”

Molly nodded sadly. “I’m sorry, Harry. I suppose you’ll be getting a letter about it soon.”

Harry closed his eyes and no one said anything else. They let him have a moment to process it before Arthur finished up the article.

Twenty-two.

Harry owned the titles, properties, and vaults of twenty-two Wizarding families.

The more he thought about it, the less he was surprised that the focus of the goblins was to find someone to inherit all of Voldemort’s stuff. It’s what they did. Passing on wealth to the next in line was one of their main jobs. It was a lot to deal with, anyways. He couldn’t blame them for wanting to get rid of it.

Rather than considering the gravity of the situation, Harry decided that once it was over, he would finish moving into his house and take some time to relax. After all he’d been through, he figured he deserved as much.

When a letter from Gringotts arrived the next day he was ecstatic, but upon arriving at the bank, it was an entirely different story. The last time he was there, he and his friends impersonated Bellatrix Lestrange, broke into her vault, and stole a dragon. Sure, it may have been a necessary evil, but that didn’t stop him from being incredibly tense and overly-polite from the moment he stepped inside.

He was escorted down a hallway filled with little offices, and taken into a room where an older goblin was waiting on him. The plaque at the door introduced him as Mr. Demgass.

This was a goblin that Harry had never met before, yet he was already overcome by the urge to apologize for stealing the dragon. Now that his adrenaline-fueled war confidence had passed, he was back to the tired and anxious boy that the Dursleys had turned him into. Thankfully, the Weasleys dismantle much of the damage done by the Dursleys, and he wasn't nearly as quiet as he once was.

Mr. Demgass wasted no time in getting to the nitty-gritty. “Mr. Potter, I must say, I’m quite impressed with you stealing a dragon. That was the most interesting thing to happen in my near-century of working here. Now, on to your problem, if you want to call it that.” The goblin pulled out a large file and it slammed onto his desk. Many of the papers inside looked ancient and worn. Much of the writing was faded and the pages were laid instead of woven. It had to be older than the 1700s at least. “You are now the head of twenty-two houses, but given the grim look you walked in with, I assume you didn’t come to celebrate.”

Demgass was unlike any goblin Harry had ever met, except for Professor Flitwick, who was only half-goblin.

“I was hoping to find a way to relinquish my new titles and properties back to their original owners.” Harry decided being straightforward about his intentions would be best, even though he didn't know much about the situation at hand or the old laws.

Demgass tilted his head. “You must see how that gets difficult given that many are deceased or imprisoned. Really, you have a few problems on your hands. Of the twenty-two houses you now head, eight are dissolved. By that, I mean that there are no living or non-imprisoned heirs to those houses. There is no one you can give those titles or properties to. You do have the option of selling the properties and taking those profits, along with whatever they had in their vaults, and either keeping the money or giving it to charity. As for the titles, you have the unique power of filling much of Wizengamot with those you see fit.”

“How could that be possible? I can’t give away jobs. How do I own jobs?” Harry really didn’t understand that part.

“Wizard society has an unspoken nobility. It is no secret that being pureblood has, or perhaps, _had_ its perks. Long ago, the Council of Wizards was a peerage, meaning it's members held lifetime and hereditary titles, which kept it entirely pureblood. When wizard society became what it is today, Wizengamot remained suspiciously unchanged. It’s mostly pureblood and their positions in Wizengamot are unofficially hereditary. One ages out, and their children and grandchildren rise to take their place. Given the unofficial nature of the system, there is no one qualified to permanently replace the empty seats. Everyone in line for a spot in Wizengamot is either dead or in Azkaban. So, either you run Wizengamot, or, you hand over the positions to those you deem competent enough to do the job.”

Harry’s first choices were members of the Order and DA. But, he was also willing to take a chance on a few of the children of Death Eaters. An unsurprisingly low number of his Slytherin peers ever took the Dark Mark. Really, it was just Draco and a few of his friends. Beyond that, almost no young people ever became a Death Eaters. He kept his mental list while the goblin continued.

“Now, beyond houses without heirs, the House of Crouch is in a unique position.” Demgass began flipping through his folder, searching for something specific. “Crouch Jr. took the Dark Mark and relinquished his inheritance, Crouch Sr. never took the Dark Mark and has no other heir, therefore, you’re the heir to the House of Crouch, but not yet the head. You would have to discuss this with Crouch Sr. so he can find another heir, or, if it’s in his best interest, allow you to remain the heir to his house.” He finally found the page he wanted and skimmed towards the bottom. “As it stands, your status as head of twenty-one houses, and heir of the House of Crouch, will be finalized in roughly half an hour.” He looked up at Harry, an inept excitement rested in his eyes, “You’re about to become the richest wizard in history. Though already wealthy, the House of Potter is to become an incredibly prosperous one.”

In the half-hour wait, Harry and Demgass went through the eight dissolved houses. He very smugly made the decision to liquidate everything once belonging to Peter Pettigrew and the House of Lestrange, with the profits going to benefit those afflicted with lycanthropy. The profits of four of the remaining houses were to be donated to help families affected by the war: orphans, widows, houses, and businesses. The profits of the final two would be donated to help repair Hogwarts. He wanted to help undo as much of the damage as he could. He felt responsible since he was the one who didn't die when he should have.

An owl was sent out when they finished with the list of properties meant to be sold and the profits donated accordingly.

“Now that we have that taken care of, there is something you must understand.” For the first time, an air of seriousness took over Demgass. “Goblins, especially those younger ones, have pride about themselves and this bank. They take pride in their jobs and in the system they’ve created. I know that after everything that’s happened you would like to build a good relationship with the goblins of Gringotts, yes?”

Harry quickly nodded, growing nervous about where the conversation was headed.

“Then trust me when I tell you that it would be considered unethical and rude for you to return all the properties. The goblins will see it as you going back on everything they’ve created and as nobody having gained anything. All they’ll see is a backwards transaction, and they’ll take it personally. You can easily relinquish the personal vaults you’ve gained, but keep just a few properties. The affected families are pureblood, they know how this works and they’ll understand. Really, they got themselves into this mess. They shouldn’t expect you to fix it all for them, but here you are. You deserve a few nice things anyways.” The goblin tempted.

Harry was visibly uncomfortable from the information he received. But he understood. “Alright. I’ll keep a few things. A few small things.”

Four hours later he rid himself of everything once belonging to House of Black, besides some furniture and everything that belonged to Sirius. The House of Crabbe lost a boat that they were planning on selling anyways, the House of Rosier lost many books, and the House of Yaxley lost some artwork. The other Houses lost nothing. He was very obviously targeting the more prominent Death Eater families.

As for the House of Malfoy, Harry had a hard time deciding on what to do with them. Part of him wanted to leave them alone and have no more dealings with them, but by the same token, he wanted to fuck them over. He could take the roof over their heads or the clothes off their backs. He could take everything and leave them with nothing but an empty home. Instead, he settled for a few pieces of furniture. It wasn’t even furniture from the Manor, but some items from other properties that the Malfoy family owned. Harry did, however, decide to take a good portion of the wine cellar, knowing how important it was to Lucius.

He was quite cross with the entire situation surrounding Lucius Malfoy. The man had given up the names of so many Death Eaters, that all charges against him were dropped since he helped Wizengamot and the Aurors bring the last of Voldemort’s followers to justice. Of course Harry understood the importance of bringing the others to justice, but he hated that Lucius got off without penalty. So yes, Harry, who doesn’t even drink, kept some good wine, just to be an arse.

Harry was quite pleased with how everything turned out. He sold almost everything that he chose to keep, got Sirius’ property in his safekeeping, and he took some wine.

As for the situation with the House of Crouch, Bartimus Crouch Sr., who was now a very weary man, told Harry that the House of Crouch might be better off in his hands. He decided that if he was so terrible that his child would be a Death Eater, and he would be manipulated by Voldemort, then perhaps it was time for his House to come to an end. Harry was in line to inherit hundreds of thousands.

Along with the imprisonments, many Death Eater families were hit with hefty fines to make reparations for what was destroyed in the war. Funnily enough, after Harry returned everything, most Houses ended up selling a good portion of their properties to take care of the fines thrown their way. It shook the finances of Wizarding society, and although Harry relinquished almost everything he had gained, the House of Potter was easily one of the richest wizarding families by the end of it all. Harry found amusement in this.

Harry moved into his house in Hogsmeade and began wondering what he was meant to do with his life. Should he date and find someone to marry, was he to get a job or live off his wealth like his father? Harry liked the idea of working, but he didn’t know where to start. He didn’t want to work in the Ministry, that was certain, but he still wanted to make a difference.

That’s when he remembered all the spots in Wizengamot he owned. Perhaps that would be a good place to start, especially now that the Death Eater trials were over and Minister Shacklebolt was beginning his plans to reform the Ministry. Given that Wizengamot acts as a judicial and legislative branch, Harry knew Shacklebolt could use all the support he could get there.

He pulled out some parchment and a quill, making a list of all the people who should have a voice in the Ministry. Starting with a few members of the Order, graduated members of the DA, a few persons afflicted with Lycanthropy, and other great witches and wizards he knew. By the end of it he had nearly half of the missing spaces filled. He began writing letter after letter, explaining the situation and asking everyone on his list if they would be interested in a position in Wizengamots.

After the responses came flooding in, Harry sent off two final letters; one to Gringotts, settling half his titles; and one to Minister Shacklebolt, sending his list of the newest members of Wizengamot.

Harry was done fighting. He had given everything, even his own life, to the war. Now, he wanted to repair things. He wanted to see things get better. He wanted simplicity. Amidst his writing, he came to realize that this was his second chance at life.


	2. Draco Malfoy and Old Law

Two months ago, the trial of Draco Malfoy was labeled the shortest one of them all. It hardly lasted a day and it was all thanks to the testimony given by Harry Potter.

He compared himself to Draco. He made the argument that since birth, he and Draco’s futures had been planned out for them, and they never had a choice in who they became. He made a point of detailing the very few crimes that Draco had actually committed, and it made Draco seem like more of an unwilling accomplice than an agent of evil. He described his own crimes, a list that was much longer and much more violent. It was made clear that Draco struggled to do less harm than what Harry had caused, that he was known to have breakdowns in the bathrooms, and that Draco was the only one out of the two of them to feel any remorse.

It was actually quite a dark and troubling set of arguments that Harry put up, but in the end, it was enough to make everyone see that Draco had never really been a bad guy. At least, not of his own will. The charges were dropped and Draco was set free. Draco was under the blissful impression that he and his mother might be the last of the Malfoy line. That they would rebuild their name, that Draco would have an heir, and they would start anew.

When his father returned, he was as prideful as ever, as if the war never happened. He was angry with Narcissa for lying to Voldemort about Harry’s death. He, along with other Death Eaters, thought Draco a blood traitor due to the doubts and hesitance he displayed in following Voldemort. Although Draco was very grateful for the way Harry defended him in Wizengamot, it made Death Eaters dislike him even more. Lucius felt his own family had betrayed him.

That alone exhausted Draco. His trial had just finished and now he was stuck at home with a father who probably hates him. Still, he pressed on until mid-June, when he learned the true nature of his oath as a Death Eater. When he asked his father about it, he was told that he didn't need to know because everything he owned was tied to Lucius anyways. He'd lost everything when Lucius took the mark. His father also couldn't stand that Harry ended up keeping some wine. It was meant to be an insult and they all knew it. But Draco also knew Lucius' anger wasn’t really about the wine. It was about everything Harry had ever done. The wine was just an excuse for the way Harry destroyed Voldemort's attempts at a racist utopia.

It didn't surprise Draco to discover that his father was scouring legal texts for a solution. He didn’t doubt his father also yearned for revenge against Narcissa and Draco. His only hope was using the money in his personal vault to find his own place and escape, until he received a letter from Gringotts informing him that his account had been frozen by his father. When he asked about it, Lucius had the gall to laugh and said he wasn’t going anywhere until he had his wine back.

Part of him was furious. He couldn’t believe Lucius wasn't thankful for the fact that he wasn’t stuck in Azkaban and could grow old with his family. He didn’t understand why that wasn’t enough. His father should be thanking Merlin that he isn’t rotting away. But he also knew family didn’t mean much to his father.

Pureblood marriages were about blood and inheritance. Everyone knew that if they were to keep their place in society and in the family, their options were limited. Most pureblood couples were best friends or sweetheart from Hogwarts. Their only options were to try to fall in love, languish in a loveless marriage, or give up their old lives to marry someone of a lower status.

His mother always intended to fall in love, but they were caught in the middle option.

Draco also spent his days keeping up with the new Wizengamot. He wasn't shocked to hear some new members were werewolves and vampires, but of the fifty members he was surprised to hear eleven were Slytherin.

One of them was Pansy Parkinson.

She wrote Draco after receiving a letter from Harry Potter, asking her if she was interested in a position. Neither of them could believe he wanted her there, but lo and behold, he greeted her with a nervous smile the first day Wizengamot was called.

With Pansy in Wizengamot, he always knew what was going on. By the start of October, the laws that had gotten Death Eaters into so much trouble with Gringotts were made void. Then, Shacklebolt and the young rebels of the war began pushing for the much-needed changes in Wizarding society. From what he's heard, Harry had turned himself into a professional at debating. He was succinct and persuasive. He would enter with his arguments and evidence at the ready; fully prepared to address counterarguments. Harry pushed for change and Pansy told Draco about every step of it.

Draco was also learning quite a bit about Harry Potter. Like everyone else, Draco had only ever seen the noble and publicized version of Harry. The Golden Boy, The Boy Who Lived, he knew him only as his monikers. But the man who stood in Wizengamot and defended him, he'd never seen that man before. It made him question how much he really knew about Harry.

Pansy told him about a small scandal that had taken place during a discussion on orphans and abuse. A group had written up a bill about a system based on Muggle policies of various governments. Something about opening a new department dedicated to adoption and protective services for families. After some discussion, many thought it was only right that the legislation be expanded to include spousal abuse. A few older members got restless and tried to argue against it. In Draco's opinion, it was because they were abusers themselves. It ended in a shouting match between Harry and an old man.

Draco saw the legislation as a source of hope. He wanted to use it to get his own father taken care of. He brought up the idea to Pansy, who sadly shot it down. It was illegal for him to be an abuser, but until this new department was formed, the law could not be enforced.

With the Ministry changing for the better and his father running out of law books to consult, Draco was lulled into a sense of security. As if everything would be alright. Still, there was a doubt that wouldn’t leave him. He felt like his father would still manage to find a way. A way to get back at him, Harry, and maybe even Narcissa for ruining Voldemort's plans.

It all came to a head one afternoon when he heard his mother shouting, “No! I’ll never agree to this! He’s our son!”

Draco sprinted out of his room and rushed downstairs to see his parents arguing in the sitting room.

“I am the head of the House of Malfoy, I make the final decision, and it is already done.” His father’s voice boomed. He wasn’t yelling, but he was visibly angry.

“Without consulting me! How could you?!”

“How could I?! How could you lie to the Dark Lord?!”

“For our son, you monster!”

Draco couldn’t stand their arguing. “What’s going on?”

They both paused and turned to look at Draco. Narcissa looked woeful, but Lucius was cold and determined.

Before Draco even knew what his father had done, he already knew that his life would fall apart at the seams. His father was all too certain, too confident, too calm. It was as if he knew what was going to happen, down to the last detail.

Lucius folded his hands behind his back, standing tall and looking quite proud of himself. “Harry used old law to insult me, so I’ve used old law to regain my honor and to punish my blood traitor of a son.”

The breath was stolen from Draco’s lungs and his eyes widened. He wasn’t afraid, there was nothing left to fear, but he was emptied by how helpless he was. He turned to his mother with a hollow expression and voice. “What has he done?”

Narcissa looked heartbroken. “H-He-” She was cut off by her throat closing up over the words, unable to hold back her own sob. She rushed to her son and held him close.

Draco cradled his crying mother and looked at Lucius, more concerned with his mother than he was his own fate. “Father, what have you done?”

“As head of the House of Malfoy, I own our properties, titles, vaults, everything. I did a bit of digging and discovered that in accordance to old law, so long as you are unwed, I also own your right to marriage.”

“My what?” Draco had never heard the term before, but he had a few harrowing ideas as to what it meant.

“He’s marrying you off!” Narcissa managed to shout the words into Draco’s chest.

He stared at his father in shock. “To whom?” He felt his fear melt away, replaced by the fiery passion of rage. “This can’t be legal!”

“Oh contraire, Wizengamot undid the laws surrounding the oaths we took, but didn't search as deep into old law as I did. This is very legal. Just as legal as Potter’s rights to my wine.” He grinned as if he had just revealed a secret.

Draco felt himself starting to tear up at the realization he came to, but held back. “No. You’re marrying me off to Potter?!” In his shocked hysteria he was overcome by a genuine laugh. “You’re insane if you believe that he would ever agree to this! The moment he finds out, he'll take it up in Wizengamot and have the law changed!” His own teary laughter made him feel like he was losing his mind.

Lucius raised an eyebrow. “He may try, but legal changes cannot be made without the presence of all members of Wizengamot, and with the full moon is approaching, some of those monsters will be gone for the next few days.” He grinned, deciding to rub his victory into Draco's face just a bit more. “But time really is of the essence, because if he refuses the offer, or if he takes longer than a day to respond, I'll sell your right to marriage to the highest bidder. I suppose you're lucky that Potter really is a nice lad, always putting others before himself. He would never let a person be sold like that, especially after his little outburst in Wizengamot. You should have seen The Quibbler yesterday! The story of Potter's childhood made the front page. Quite distressing, yes?”

Draco actually _had_ seen The Quibbler. Harry had only agreed to share his story in order to raise awareness and gain support for the bill, which ended up being unanimously passed. Harry's newfound political influence was the only hope that Draco had left. It's what gave him the gall to scoff in his father's face, “Even so, he has all the time in the world to change the law! The marriage will be nullified!”

“So it would seem." Lucius shrugged as if it didn't even matter, as if he'd thought of that too. "There's a certain clause in existing marriage laws that came about when more progressive wizards decided that homosexual marriage should be legal. At the time, it never would have come to pass. So they did the next best thing. They created an immutable clause which states that any changes made to marriage laws will not affect existing couples. This meant that if anyone tried to make a homosexual marriage illegal, it wouldn't nullify existing marriages. And now, it means that your marriage can’t be nullified.” He put on a gleaming smile as he basked in his victory.

Draco hated every second of his father’s explanation. He didn't want to hear any more of it. He glared at the man before him. Emotions flooded him and mixed into a pool of nothingness. It was like mixing every paint together, only to end up with a calm and cool black. He stood tall and took in a shaky breath, feeling everything and nothing at all. He had nothing more to say on the subject, only a deep regret for having ever loved the man before him.

Draco held his weeping mother and stroked her back, telling her everything would be okay.

They ended up sitting on the sofa together and he had a house elf bring them some tea. His calmed his mother down and they sat in silence. Neither of them wanted to talk about what had just happened.

While his mother took a moment to herself, attempting to pull herself together, he wrote a letter. He addressed it to Pansy and it described everything that had just happened to him. She already knew Lucius was out seeking revenge, but like Draco, she was under the impression that it was almost over. They were both wrong.

He sent out the letter and turned to his mother to see her looking as devastated as ever. “I suppose you were right. Perhaps I had too much faith in him.”

“No. We’ll be alright, mum. Certainly he’ll realize that if word of this gets out, nobody will take his side. He’ll come to his senses.”

Narcissa shook her head. “I don’t think so, not this time. He really wants this.”

It was then that Draco realized how old his mother was. Of course, he never thought her old. But the tired lines on her face, the grey streaks that Draco used to see as an aesthetic benefit, and her thinning frame made Draco realized how worn down she really was. Before the war she was as radiant as a young woman. But now, she was brittle and exhausted with age, the weight of the war speeding up the aging process. And now, this.

Draco took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling. In fact, he wasn’t sure that he felt anything at all. He spent the rest of the day on that sofa, unwilling to move. When he did leave to go to his room he found sleep to be impossible. As much as he wanted to believe that his father would come to his senses and call the whole thing off, he doubted it.

Part of him knew that no matter what happened over these next few days, nothing would ever be the same. Even if everything was called off, he’s come to realized that this isn’t something he could so easily forgive, and his father isn’t the same man he once was.

Then again, neither was Draco.


	3. Property

The marital contract was meant to be arranged by a neutral third party. But, as with all property, Draco’s right of marriage was to be settled at Gringotts.

Exactly three days ago, Harry had received an unexpected letter from Lucius Malfoy. He stared at it a solid minute before finally opening it and reading it’s contents. It took precisely four paragraphs for Harry’s entire world to fall apart around him.

He sank to his knees in the kitchen and leaned back against the counter. After everything he’d been through, he just couldn’t catch a break. He survived years of abuse, he survived almost dying each of his years at Hogwarts, he survived a war that he had planned to die in, he survived the trials and thought it was finally over. He was hit with the bullshit of Voldemort’s oaths and still moved forward, using it to improve Wizengamot. But now. Now he was torn apart.

He always wondered about the marriage of his parents. He wondered for how long they dated before they wed, he wondered about when they realized they were in love, he wondered about how his father proposed. He knew he’d likely never know the answers to those questions, but he wanted to find out for himself. He wanted to know how long he’d date his future spouse before they wed, he wanted to discover true love, he wanted to get on one knee and hold up a ring to someone special.

He didn’t necessarily picture marrying a woman and having children. He was also quite interested in men, though he’s never dated one. He’d even come to the conclusion that he might as well try, just to see what it was like. In fact, he’d met a werewolf in Wizengamot who was only two years older than him that he was quite interested in.

Now, he had twenty-four hours to either give up his love life or watch an innocent man be sold off like cattle.

What had his life become?

He didn’t even know he was crying until there was a wet spot on the collar of his shirt from where his tears had rolled down his face and neck. He wiped himself off and took in a shaky breath. He didn’t even have to think about his decision. He already knew what he would choose.

Still, he waited. He’d already made up his mind, but he wanted to enjoy just a few final moments as a single man with a future. Twenty-four hours, that should be enough time for him to hunt a man down and fool around. Maybe he could finally lose his virginity.

Of course, dying a virgin wasn’t something he wanted. This might be his last chance. But any desire that might’ve lived in him was squandered by the gravity of the situation.

It wasn’t as if he had never happened upon someone willing to sleep with him, but rather, he’d spent his teenage years in the middle of a war and never had the time. He’d also hoped that his first time would be with a romantic partner and not just a one night stand. Sex was vulnerable and nerve-wracking. He needed someone he could trust, and that couldn’t be a stranger.

He supposed it didn’t matter anymore.

He found himself sitting at his kitchen table writing out his reply.

_’Ok’_

He waited five hours before he wrote down the single word, signed the page, and sent it off. He sat there for a while longer before he wrote a letter to Molly, detailing what had happened and asking for advice.

After extensive conversation the following day, Harry and the Weasleys felt pretty neutral about Draco Malfoy. He wasn’t a willing participant in the war or in his activities as a Death Eater, he’d even taken care of Luna while she was trapped in his Manor. Had they gone to Hogwarts in a world where Voldemort didn’t exist, they might have been friends. Nevertheless, Draco was also a victim in this marriage, and Molly wasn’t just there to fight for Harry.

Since his life had nearly fallen apart before his very eyes for a second time, Harry had turned to some strange coping habits. Although the Weasleys were used to seeing him sitting outside, taking in the warm sun and enjoying nature, they weren’t used to the barrage of food presented to them. Of all things, Harry had turned to cooking. Since he began doing it for himself and for the people he loves, he found that he actually enjoys it. They spent the next two days being sent hordes of food.

Marital contracts were typically worked out by the families of the betrothed. Naturally, Harry asked Molly and Arthur to represent him. They agreed.

Now the three of them stood in Gringotts bank, five minutes early and with the Malfoys nowhere in sight.

Harry was anxious, but felt a bit better at the sight of a familiar goblin toddling up to him. “Demgass?” He managed a small smile.

“The one and only.” His neutral expression was replaced with a look of sorrow. “Mr. Potter, I really am sorry about all of this. I should have better advised you in what you kept a-”

“No. This isn’t your fault. This isn’t your fault in the slightest. You couldn't've have known this would happen.” He didn’t want Demgass to feel responsible. In fact, he never even considered that any blame should be placed on the goblin. “This isn’t about the wine anyways, this is about the war. He would’ve found a way to hurt us regardless.” Harry paused a moment, realizing why Demgass had arrived. “You must be in charge of the marital contract, then.”

Demgass gave a curt nod. “Since I dealt with you so successfully last time, I’ll likely be assigned to handle all your affairs at Gringotts.”

“Well if it’s any consolation, I’m glad it’s you. I’d rather this be handled by someone I know."

Demgass cracked a sad smile. “Again, I’m very sorry about this situation. You both deserve so much better.”

It was then that the Malfoys arrived. Lucius stood tall and proud, Narcissa looked as if she had been crying, and Draco refused to lift his eyes off the floor.

Harry wasn’t sure what had overcome him. Perhaps he didn’t want Lucius to think he had won, it might have been arrogance, or maybe it was a misplaced sense of confidence, but Harry greeted the Malfoys with a cheery grin.

Molly recognized the look and quickly locked arms with Harry, pulling him close. When Harry gave her a questioning look, she responded, “You only ever smile like that when you’re about to punch someone.”

Harry’s smile dropped and he raised his eyebrows in shock. He hadn’t even known that about himself.

Demgass had to stifle a laugh at the thought of Harry punching Lucius. He lead them all into a meeting room. There was one table with three chairs on either side, and a very tall chair at the head. Demgass sat here while the Malfoys took one side and Harry’s family took the other.

“Now, we are gathered here today to discuss the marital contract between Mr. Draco Malfoy and Mr. Harry Potter. The terms and dowry discussed in said contract are legally binding, and are unchangeable after this meeting is adjourned. Do both parties understand?” Demgass asked in a very formal tone.

Silent nods filled the room.

“Right. I’ve drawn up a standard marital contract. Before you are copies of it. Please read it over and see if it is to your liking.”

By “standard marital contract” it was understood that Demgass was referring to the typical marital contract between pureblood families. Because of this, Lucius was able to quickly skim it, already knowing it’s contents, while Molly and Arthur took a few moments longer to review it. Based on the way Molly very slightly smiled, Harry could tell she'd probably worked out a way that the contract would allow for divorce.

When they finished reading, Lucius spoke up. “If it is agreeable, I would like to add an infidelity clause.”

Molly raised an eyebrow. “Forget how babies are made, have you? There can’t be an illegitimate heir between them.” She knew exactly what those clauses were for and knew it unnecessary.

“I simply don’t want my son entering a relationship where the other could be unfaithful.” In truth, he didn’t want them to be able to cope with their unhappy marriage by seeing other people. He wanted them to be stuck with each other. “Though I would like to change the terms of the clause.” Typically, the clause would state that if one was unfaithful, the marriage would be dissolved and the other would get all the titles, properties, and wealth associated with the marriage.

“Are you insinuating that infidelity isn’t grounds for divorce?” Molly asked, incredulous that he was so determined to take away any chance of divorce.

Lucius smiled and nodded, rather pleased with himself. “Yes. Rather than divorce, the unfaithful should be tried in court as violating a legally binding contract.”

“No!” Molly argued.

“Then I suppose we could always call the marriage off. I’ve already drawn up the letters advertising the sale of Draco’s right of marriage.”

Narcissa looked up with a terrified expression and Draco's eyes snapped up to look at Molly with a pleading expression, but Harry already knew she would relent. Regardless of the fearful looks, Molly was too kind to ever let Lucius do something like that.

“Right. Tried for breaking the contract, that’s fine.”

Molly and Lucius dominated the conversation. They discussed the terms of the marriage fiercely. Mostly by giving in to Lucius’ terms, with Molly arguing in a bit of leeway for the boys. Narcissa only spoke up to tell her husband to back down, and Arthur to defend his wife. Harry and Draco were silent through the process. Draco stared at his lap while Harry’s eyes darted between the squabbling adults. He was very invested in the conversation. He still had hope that Molly would be able to help them out, but Draco had given up.

By the same token, Harry also found the room to be entirely overwhelming. Something about it was just too much. Maybe it was the situation, maybe it was Lucius Malfoy sitting across from him, but he was distressed. He wanted to focus on everything besides the sound of Lucius' voice, the sound it irritated him. But he also wanted to know exactly what was going on. He decided to keep his eyes trained on the contract in Molly's hand, watching things be added and taken away as the debate continued.

After presenting a list of each of their assets, Lucius tried his hardest to minimize Draco's personal property and get as much as he could under Harry's control. He was actively trying to make their marriage unequal. He wanted to give Harry the tools to ruin Draco's life with hopes that Harry still harbored anger and hate from their time at Hogwarts. He even tried to get Draco's personal vault as part of their communal property, but Molly was adamant in keeping it solely under Draco's name. In the end, it ended up being one of the only things he still owned. With the threat of calling off the marriage and selling Draco off, there wasn't a lot Molly could do.

"I'd also like to forgo the sunset clause." Lucius added.

Molly looked a mix of exhausted and exasperated. "You want to forgo it entirely?"

The sunset clause made the contract null after a certain event or amount of time had passed. Purebloods typically set it as the birth of an heir or the passage of ten years, as those events were considered signs that the marriage would last. Harry was even willing to bet the contract between Narcissa and Lucius was void by now.

"Yes. This is my final request." He added in that bit to discourage any opposition from Molly, who already knew arguing wouldn't change anything.

"Fine."

With that, they finally moved on to wedding payments. Given that it was between two men, "dowry" wasn't quite the right term to use, so Lucius insisted both parties give something up. Draco’s was to be the furniture from his room, twenty thousand Galleons, and three house elves.

Molly was quick to argue it. “Keep the house elves out of it and you can have back your wine _and_ the furniture that Harry acquired from your other properties.” She knew that Harry was uncomfortable with the idea of keeping house elves. Ever since Dobby, he saw them as his equals, and it was hard for him to hold someone in servitude given his childhood.

Lucius raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question it, “Deal.”

Harry couldn’t quite figure out why it was so hard to breathe in that room, why he averted his gaze whenever Lucius glanced his way, how the sound of the man’s voice had him on the verge of exploding, or how the sight of him made Harry sick. Everything about the man made him so incredibly stressed out. He wanted to scream. His only comfort was the fact that it was finally finished. He couldn't wait to get away from Lucius.

The two copies of the contract held by Molly and Lucius were enchanted so any changes to Demgass' copy was transferred onto theirs. They read over the finalized document, and as unhappy as everyone was about the situation, it was determined that this was good enough.

“Shall I finalize any plans for a ceremony?” Demgass asked.

Molly gave a polite smile. “Perhaps it would be most appropriate that we skip a ceremony and treat this solely as a social arrangement.”

“I’m inclined to agree.” Lucius concluded with a nod.

“Right. Then, if everyone is satisfied with the arrangement at hand, I need the betrothed to sign.”

Harry glanced over at the document in Molly’s hand and noticed something in the title.

_’The Marital Contract of Harry and Draco Potter’._

He didn’t like that. He didn’t like it at all.

“Wait.” His heard himself speak before he even knew what he wanted to say. All eyes were on him, even Draco looked up from where he had been stating at his lap. Draco and Narcissa looked worried, but Lucius seemed to have a sick interest in what Harry might want. He ignored everyone and looked Demgass in the eye. “I don’t want our surname to be Potter. I’d prefer Potter-Malfoy.”

He wanted to give Draco the option of still being able to identify as a Malfoy. He wasn’t going to let Lucius take Draco’s name away from him.

“But, he is to move in with you and become part of your House. This is highly unusual.” Lucius argued.

Harry finally looked the man in his eyes. “Yet Draco isn’t being ousted from society like every other pureblood who doesn’t marry within their league."

A grin spread across Lucius' face, as if he had been hoping someone would point that out. "Actually, I looked into your family lineage and you'll never believe what I discovered. Your family are the descendants of Linfred of Stinchcombe, whose nickname was 'the Potterer'. His eldest son was the first recorded Potter, Hardin Potter. Your line continues to marry other witches and wizards, with the occasional muggle, but no significant number. Your great-grandfather, Henry Potter, was quite outspoken on behalf of muggles. That and your muggle-sounding surname are the only reasons your family was excluded from the Sacred Twenty-Eight." He let out a soft chuckle as if he had won a game of chess. "Even your mother's unfortunate blood-status can be overlooked. You're practically pureblood, Harry."

Harry was dumbstruck. He was aware that no pureblood house was perfect. He knew they had to marry people of other blood-statuses, even the occasional muggle, to prevent it from getting incestuous. But he didn't realize his own family line followed the same pattern. As hard as it was, he could handle being practically pureblood. That didn't hurt him. But to refer to his mother's blood as **unfortunate**! That angered him more than marrying Draco.

"Blood aside, no heir can be made of this marriage and I do believe continuing your family name is quite important to you. When was the last gay marriage between purebloods, anyways? Ah yes, never.” He rose from his seat and slowly leaned across the table, inching closer to Lucius as he spoke. “Not to mention how abnormally restrictive the marital contract is; no sunset clause, forgone amendment procedures, and an infidelity clause even though there's no possibility of an illegitimate heir?" His voice had slowly dropped to a low growl and he ever-so-slightly penetrated Lucius' personal space. He stayed there for the rest of his tirade. "Any and all chance of divorce is gone, and yet you claim to want the best for your son, which I find redundant though I think we're all far past how backwards you can be, Malfoy. Everything about this marriage is unusual, yet you seem to have no problem breaking societal norms to make it happen. So what’s one more?” In that moment, Harry Potter was gone, and in his place sat a vengeful beast. A beast that hadn’t seen the light of day since he struck down Voldemort. "Potter-Malfoy, or no deal."

Lucius was silent.

Harry sat back down and Molly set a hand on his back, trying to calm him down.

Demgass quickly changed their surname, looking absolutely terrified of Harry, but he wasn't the only one. Narcissa and Draco also seemed afraid of Harry's display, but for very different reasons. They were afraid for Draco's sake.

Demgass' copy was passed to Draco, along with a quill. ‘Draco Potter-Malfoy’ was written in a big beautiful cursive, but the 'Potter' was a bit awkward, as he wasn't used to writing the word. He wordlessly pushed the document and quill to Harry. ‘Harry Potter-Malfoy’ was written in a small and timid cursive. His letters were close and tight.

Harry handed the document and quill to Demgass, who signed as the document’s legal witness and stamped the corner with an official Gringotts seal.

Harry took a deep breath. It was over and he was married. He wasn’t sure how he felt. In fact, he didn’t really feel anything other than a misplaced sense of relief from the contract being finished.

Lucius smiled. “Wonderful. Do keep your Floo open, Harry. Draco will be moving in tomorrow morning.”

With that, Harry watched his husband and in-laws leave with their copy of the marital contract. The original was to stay in Gringott’s records.

Once they were gone, Harry felt tears fall from his eyes. He looked over at Molly, almost seeming confused, as if he had no idea why he was crying. He felt entirely helpless to the way his life had just changed before him.

“Harry, I’m so sorry. I wish I could’ve done more.” Molly said as she wrapped her arms around the boy.

“It isn’t that. It’s Draco. He had to choose between marrying me or a stranger, he has to leave his home and his mother! Merlin, he’s probably so scared. I can’t believe this happened to us!”

Molly gave a sad smile. “There you go, always worrying about someone else instead of yourself.” She pressed a kiss to the top of his head as she held him close. “Try to make the best of it, Harry. I know you want to befriend him, and I think a friend is what he could use right now.”

Harry wasn’t the only one crying.

At Malfoy Manor, Draco hurried into his room before the tears began to fall. He couldn’t believe he was stuck marrying someone who didn’t even like him. They could hardly tolerate each other. How were they meant to live together?

His body hit the bed and his mind drifted. He wondered how much truth was in Harry’s defense of him. He wondered if Harry genuinely believed that Draco wasn’t a true Death Eater, if Harry really believed that Draco was just like him and had no choice in his life. Nevertheless, they still did have their history of fighting each other at every chance. Really, Lucius was handing Harry the perfect revenge. He would have Draco trapped in marriage, unable to escape, and he could do anything. Abuse him, beat him, starve him, leave him feeling alone and isolated. Even if Harry went through something similar as a child, even if he made spousal abuse illegal, no one would take his word against Harry's. Starting tomorrow, Harry would have Draco helpless and in his clutches. He could do whatever he wanted to him.

Draco took a deep breath and rolled over to lay on his back, taking a piece of parchment from the table, and writing a crude letter to Pansy that detailed his anxieties about what Harry might do. He hated that he was so worried about it, but he was. Harry was being handed the chance to get back at Draco for everything he’s ever done. Not to mention his angry display towards Lucius. Harry had the balls to get in Lucius Malfoy's face and call him out.

He tried to convince himself that the idea was ridiculous. that Harry was a good person who fought for good. But was he? In truth, Draco didn’t actually know that much about Harry. He remembered the list of crimes Harry had committed and his harrowing statement of remorselessness at the trial. He wondered if Lucius thought Harry might spend his days hurting Draco for all the years they’d hurt each other. But he also remembered the way Harry fought to let Draco keep his surname. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t care, right?

But that anger, that fire, it scared him.

He didn’t know anymore. There was no way to logic through the situation because it was so obscure.

He was quite literally sold to his own worst enemy for revenge and wine. That was his worth. Revenge and wine. Nothing more.

Draco continued in his letter to Pansy, detailing how the meeting went. He added in Harry's outburst but also mentioned how Harry fought to combine their surnames. He was looking for every positive he could find to convince himself that things might not be as bad as they seem. But no matter how he felt about it, tomorrow, he was to move in to his new husband’s house, and there he would start his new life as Harry Potter’s spouse.

It was then that he realized he and Harry hadn’t spoken to each other since Hogwarts. They hadn’t spoken to each other in half a year, and now they were married. They hadn't even made eye contact today.

Pansy offered to help move Draco in, which he quickly accepted. He could use all the support he could get. Plus, he wanted it done as quickly as possible. Somehow, he saw the move-in process as an obstacle he had to surpass to find the answers to his questions on their new relationship. Would he be abused? He wouldn’t know until he moved in.

While Draco spent the night packing his things, Harry spent it cleaning and making room. He pushed some furniture around, he cleaned everything until it was spotless, he even did the laundry just so the basket would be empty when Draco arrived. He wasn’t sure why he was suddenly displaying nesting behavior, but here he was. He chalked it up to nerves and tried to get some sleep.

They both tried to get some sleep, but it didn’t come easy.


	4. Coping

“Harry seriously refused the house elves?” Pansy asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Right! I don’t know who he expects to do all the housework. It certainly won’t be me!” Draco ranted as he packed the last of his things. Besides the furniture, he’s fit all his belongings into two suitcases.

“It doesn’t surprise me.” Pansy said as he lifted a suitcase to take to the Floo. “He’s fought very adamantly in Wizengamot about enforcing their rights. Plus, well, you’ve heard the stories.”

Many stories had spread about Harry being abused as a child due to his outburst in Wizengamot. The stories were so popular that they were even mentioned in newspapers. But Harry never corrected them, and Harry had a history of calling out the papers if they were wrong, so it was slowly accepted as fact.

“Do you think he was treated like a house elf?” Draco asked as he toddled down the stairs with his large suitcase.

“Probably worse, but it’s none of my business.” Pansy responded as she followed him down.

The Floo was already loaded up with his nightstand, vanity, wardrobe, and trunk; some of his only remaining belongings.

The two of them stepped into the Floo, where Narcissa and a few house elves were waiting to help get everything moved in. Draco didn’t know where his father was, likely celebrating in the wine cellar. It isn’t like he needed to supervise them. Legally, they couldn’t do anything besides comply with the contract, and since the war, they were all too exhausted to try anything drastic.

With a deep breath, Narcissa announced their destination, and they ended up in a light blue sitting room. Tall windows, white curtains, a mix of pastel and dark furniture that complemented each other surprisingly well. The house was bright, not very lavish or big, but quite cozy.

Harry was waiting there with Molly and Ron Weasley. The two seemed a bit sad, but Harry mostly looked surprised by their sudden appearance.

Harry awkwardly stepped forward when he saw the luggage that Pansy and Draco held. “The uhm, the master bedroom is this way,” He began to walk towards the hall, “you can set your suitcases down and unpack in there.”

Draco felt uneasy, but followed behind Pansy. He momentarily feared that Harry might actually expect them to share a room. They entered the bedroom at the end of the hall and were greeted by what was likely the nicest room in the house. Pansy tossed the suitcase onto the bed and began opening it. Draco did the same while Harry lingered by the door.

“I’ll be sleeping in the other room. I figured you uh, you might be more comfortable with the bigger room. I-If you don’t like it, I don’t mind switching.” He awkwardly looked around. “I’ll go help them with the furniture.” He mumbled as he left.

When he was gone, Pansy cracked a small smile. “At least you don’t have to share a room with him.” She pointed out. “You have a space to be alone when you want to be. Don’t have to stare at his ugly face all day.”

That last part made Draco crack a smile. “I suppose.”

Two house elves were already carrying the nightstand, the third was carefully carrying the vanity, and Ron and Molly were moving the dresser. Narcissa tried to lift Draco's trunk, but her hands were shaking, and it was quite heavy.

“Let me help you.” Harry said, rushing to her side. He took the other end and lifted it up with a small and nervous smile. When he realized they were the only ones in the room, he spoke in a soft voice. “I really am sorry about this. I know that this isn’t what anyone wanted, besides Lucius. But, I would like to be friends with Draco, at least. I want to get along with him.”

Narcissa gave him a small smile. “Just, give him some time. Eventually, he’ll want to make the best of it too. I think you two will learn to get along. I’m sorry Lucius did this to you, I tried to fight him on it but he’s the head of house, it wasn’t up to me.”

“It’s okay. The only person I blame is him.”

They got the vanity into the bedroom room and placed it where Draco wordlessly motioned.

Narcissa gave the house elves some Floo powder and sent them on their way. The Weasley’s and Harry went back into the sitting room so Draco could have some time with his mother and Pansy.

Truthfully, neither Harry nor Draco wanted to be alone with the other. Not yet.

“Well, I can’t believe you got married before I did.” Ron joked with a weak smile.

Harry couldn’t help but to let out a soft chuckle. “I suppose I did.”

“So, you want to be his friend?” Ron crossed his arms and tilted his head. “I think it would be good for the both of you if you didn’t hate each other, which, I don’t think either of you really do.”

Harry only shrugged, “I don’t think we do either. I just hope maybe we can find some way to get a divorce. Lucius took every legal reason for divorce or separation and made them all invalid in the contract. Really, the only out is Azkaban.”

“Hopefully neither of you get that desperate.”

Harry couldn’t help but to smile at that.

“So, you gave him the big room? That’s nice of you. I think he’d like it better than the guest room.” Molly pointed out.

“I thought so too.” Harry leaned against the wall and looked into the kitchen area. There was no door between the sitting room, dining room, and the kitchen. He liked it that way. It felt more open. “I don’t know what I’ll make for lunch or dinner. I don’t know what he likes.” He was aching to cook as it had become one of his favorite coping mechanisms.

“Don’t tell me you’re already so domestic.” Ron was desperately trying to lighten the situation.

Harry smiled and rolled his eyes. “You’re only upset that I make a better husband.”

Ron mocked offense, “I’d be a good husband!”

“My condolences to Hermione.”

They joked a while longer before Molly had to leave. They hugged and said their goodbyes. Molly wished him the best and left.

He and Ron talked for a while longer before Pansy entered the sitting room. Harry gave her a polite smile as she approached. “Pansy, ah, I’d actually like to ask you something?”

Pansy had originally entered the room to threaten him in case he ever hurt Draco, but the nervous smile made her relent a bit. “Yes?”

“Uhm, well, I was going to make lunch, which you’re welcome to stay for, of course. But, I was wondering what Draco likes and if he’s allergic to anything?”

Pansy blinked in surprise. That was one of the last things she expected out of Harry’s mouth. She suddenly lost her urge to threaten Harry. “He doesn’t have any allergies, but he is a bit sensitive to dairy, though he still eats it. He likes just about anything as long as it tastes good. Not a fan of mushrooms, though.”

Harry gave a nod and softly thanked her.

“I’m leaving now. Expect Narcissa to stick around for a while.”

“Of course.” He nodded as Pansy left.

Ron took a deep breath. “It’s nearly time for lunch, I could help you cook.” He offered, “So long as you feed me.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Get your arse in the kitchen. Familiar with risotto?”

“Of course.”

“Then boil some water for me, you’re on rice duty.”

In the end, they had a gorgeous looking risotto ready. It was full of vegetables, sausages, and a few spices. Of course, the dish wasn’t typically spicy, but Harry loved it that way. Still, given that he didn’t know Draco’s tastes, he eased up on the spice and especially the cheese. He only added a little bit since he knew Draco still ate it. He mixed it all together and set the pot on the cooker while Ron pulled out the dishware to make himself a bowl.

Now came the hard part, actually inviting Draco and Narcissa to eat.

He went down the hall and saw Draco’s door was shut. He stood outside, hesitating for a few seconds, before giving the door a few soft knocks. He immediately regretted when he did and began internally panicking. Had he knocked too loud? Too much? Did he interrupt something? He’d been quite anxious all day, and now that he was going to try and talk to Draco, it got so much worse.

Narcissa opened the door.

“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you two, but I, uh, I made lunch. It’s just a risotto. Uhm, so if you two are hungry, it-it’ll be in the kitchen.”

She spoke with a polite smile that Harry could tell wasn't genuine. “Thank you, Harry.”

Harry gave a nod and left as Narcissa closed the door. He took a deep breath and rubbed his face, feeling absolutely stupid for having worried so much.

Ron, meanwhile, was inhaling his food in the kitchen. “Get rejected?” He joked.

Harry groaned and sat down at the table, putting his head down. “I don’t know.”

Ten minutes later and Harry was doing the dishes while Ron leaned against the counter, discussing Hermione’s Ministry internship with him. As far as they were concerned, this was the first step of her becoming the next Minister for Magic.

Narcissa and Draco silently entered and saw the risotto was still out.

Harry gave them a polite smile and showed them where the bowls and silverware were.

The two silently ate at the table while Ron and Harry continued their quiet conversation.

Draco was still very unhappy about his situation. But, Harry being able to cook did make it a bit better. Not to say the risotto was _that_ good, but it was. Best risotto he’s ever had. It made him a bit excited for dinner. He would've scarfed it all down if it weren't for the presence of his mother and the weasel.

Eventually, Ron knew it was time to let Harry deal with the situation on his own. He said his goodbyes, gave Harry a hug, and left with another bowl of risotto for Hermione because, “She would kill me if I didn’t bring her back some.”

Harry finished doing the dishes and put up the leftovers in the fridge.

The silent room prompted Narcissa to take her leave. She had stayed longer than she expected and knew that Draco needed to deal with this on his own. She gave Draco a long hug before leaving.

The two boys were left in the kitchen.

Draco stayed at the table and refused to look up. All his anxieties of Harry still being angry about their time at Hogwarts and the war came back to him. He was preparing himself to either duck at the sound of a spell, or to come up with a quip to some insult.

Harry twiddled his thumbs and tried to think of something useful to say. He still felt bad for Draco. Though they were both victims, Draco was the one who had to give up his entire life. Harry thought the other had it worse.

“I uh, I do the laundry and the shopping every Sunday. So. If there’s something specific that you want, uhm, just let me know and I can get it. O-Or you’re welcome to come with me, if you want. Ah, I also don’t typically make lunch. I really just make breakfast and dinner. But, of course you can have anything you want for lunch. This uh, this is all yours. Uhm.” He was suddenly out of things to say. He was almost thankful that he didn’t have to hear his own anxious voice anymore.

Draco wasn’t sure what to make of what he just heard. Harry was offering to cook him two meals a day and do his laundry. He blinked a few times as this wasn’t at all what he expected. “Thanks, Potter.” His own voice sounded surprised and almost confused.

“Don’t worry about it, Malfoy.”

That was enough conversation for one day.

Draco went to his room and Harry sat in the main room, neither knowing how to feel about their new lives. Harry didn't know what he had expected but he figured this was a pretty good start. Draco, meanwhile, had no clue what to expect anymore. Then again, painfully awkward small talk was better than the abuse he feared. Sure, he could get angry, he could fight back, but he was also tired. He was so tired. He was tired of the war, of his past, of his father. Exhaustion slowly crept into his bones since the day he took the Dark Mark. He wasn't sure if there was much fight left in him. He even doubted there was ever much to begin with.

Draco sat on his new bed and tried to think of the positives. He had all his old furniture, the bed was large, the mattress was soft, the pillows were plush, the sheets were even a dark green. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that Harry did it on purpose. They were the exact green of the Slytherin sheets at Hogwarts, which gave him a strange sense of homeliness. He didn't miss Hogwarts per se, but he did miss how simple his life was in those first few years.

He took in the rest of the room and found that it wasn't so bad. Dark wooden floors that worked well with the sheets to give the room an earthy feel. But the walls were very different. The walls were a pale lavender. The sunlight through the white curtains played off the walls and made the room seem bright and soft. That, combined with the earthy feel, almost made Draco feel as if he were sitting in an enchanted forest. He knew this was Harry's room before he moved in, and he thought it was funny that Harry would create such a soft and enchanted place for himself. It almost made him want to switch rooms.

He decided to occupy himself by burying himself in his books. He read all kinds of books, but given his stressful situation, he turned to a guilty pleasure of his: romance novels. Of course, he would never admit to reading them. They sat on the nightstand by his bed, the cover of each was blank, but Draco knew which was which. They were his favorite books and he’s had them for years. He started his little collection when he was sixteen, right around the time he started exploring his interest in men. He read the romances about being a girl who’s swept away by some guy, but found it hard to pretend to be that girl. Thankfully, in the back of a little shop, he found books that were much more suited for him. Right by some lesbian novels, he found a collection of romances for gay men. He was in shock that there existed such literature. Although homosexuality wasn’t frowned upon or kept secret, he never expected to find books for people like him. He immediately indulged himself and bought five.

As his stomach churned, he turned to a favorite of his. A cute little novella about a nobleman who gets whisked away by a pirate. As embarrassed as he was, he couldn’t resist something as cheesy as that. Needless to say, it was easy for him to relate to a character who had a high place in society. He was also never very interested in men like himself. All stuffy and prideful. He was much more interested in more normal men. Men who knew how to have fun, who didn't have to keep up appearances, who weren't so high-maintenance, like a pirate. He wanted to be with a man who was nothing like himself.

Harry, on the other hand, was lost in food. He had a week’s worth of meals planned and he was eager to get started. Cooking was one of the few things that he helped him relax.

He stared at the parchment until the words meant nothing to him. He tried to focus but he was overcome by a hazy tiredness. He blinked a few times and tried to shake the feeling away. The pen in his hand, yes, a pen, because quills were fun, but in the privacy of his own home he wasn’t afraid to turn to more convenient muggle inventions.

The pen in his hand began to move and he found himself writing about brownies. He decided he would eventually make brownies. Ever since he met Remus, chocolate had become another coping mechanism of his. It was then that he remembered he still had three bars in the fridge.

He pulled out one and went over by the kitchen window, opening it and taking in the warm rays of the sun that fell in. Just like at the Weasley's, it made him feel alive. He took a bite of chocolate. He licked it over with his tongue, encouraging it to melt and spread throughout his mouth. The chocolate gave him a sweet bitterness that distracted him from whatever exhaustion had tried to overcome him. Warmth and chocolate. He basked in the sensations and thought about the brownies he would eventually make.

Cooking, nature, and chocolate. His only remedies.


	5. Cooking Lessons

Two weeks later and the two still hardly spoke to each other, but it was easier to be in the same room.

Harry naturally woke up earlier than Draco, so the blonde would wake up to a breakfast that was waiting, still warm at the table. For lunch, he typically made himself a sandwich or had some fruit. They ate dinner together, though silent and a bit awkward. Draco was honestly amazed that he had the stomach to eat anything this past week. But the scent of Harry's cooking always drew him out of his room and got him reading at the kitchen table.

They both spent a lot of time out of the house. At every chance they could they went out and saw their friends. Harry also had his job and Draco would read in his room if everyone he still spoke to were busy. Since his trail, Death Eaters considered him to be a blood traitor, a title he wasn't ashamed of in the slightest. But it also drastically shortened the list of people he spoke to. He still had his mother, Pansy, and occasionally he spoke to Blaise. Though Blaise ended up moving to France with his mother, so they couldn't see each other in person besides when Draco took the Floo to the Zabini villa.

Although Draco and Harry didn’t exactly want to be around each other, they didn’t hate each other, and were both thankful for that.

Harry was making dinner for the fifteenth night in a row and Draco felt a strange sense of guilt. Harry had done his laundry, kept the house clean, worked, and cooked two meals a day. But Draco has done nothing besides sit around. It was a sharp contrast to what he feared going into the marriage. He was afraid of being starved, beaten, treated like a slave. He feared the anger of the situation, the frustration, but also he understood why those things weren’t present. They were both tired of fighting and being angry. They were worn down. Yet here Harry was, taking on responsibility while Draco wasn’t expected to lift a finger. Draco was being taken care of. He didn’t deserve it, and he felt like he should be doing more.

“Potter?” He softly asked.

Harry gave him a surprised glance from where he was setting out vegetables. “Yea?” He didn’t expect Draco to start talking to him. Though he was usually present when Harry cooked dinner, he would always silently read at the table. The two hardly ever spoke.

“Need any help?” His words were falling from his lips before he even realized what he was saying. All he knew was that he needed to speak.

Harry was surprised, but he appreciated it. “Do you know how to make spaghetti?”

Draco shook his head.

“Would you like me to teach you? It isn’t that hard.”

“Sure.”

With that, Draco slowly got up and made his way over to Harry.

Harry was strangely pleased by Draco’s offer. “Mind peeling and dicing the tomatoes for the sauce? If you run it under warm water for a bit the skin will come right off.”

Draco gave a silent nod and got to work.

Harry took care of the other vegetables and heated up a pan with olive oil. When it was time, he had Draco stir while he added the vegetables and herbs. He then boiled water for the noodles while Draco silently tended to the sauce.

Eventually, the blonde spoke up once more, “This is a lot like potions.”

Harry nodded, “Yea, cooking is almost exactly like potions. Perhaps that's why I was always better at it.”

Draco raised an eyebrow and cracked a smile. Regardless of the situation, he couldn’t let Harry get away with a quip like that. “Did you hit your head this morning? You were never half the potion’s master I was!”

Harry chuckled, “Wasn’t I? Potions and Quidditch, I always had you beat.”

Draco aimed his wooden spoon at Harry with a playful look in his eyes, but his grip was off, unsure between the hold of a weapon or a wand. “You’re a liar and we both know it.”

Genuine fear flashed in those green eyes, and he leaned back to avoid being hit; his pulse picking up as a temporary panic rushed through him. He tried to hide the fear with a small smile but Draco still saw it. For a moment he saw how familiar this situation was for Harry. He knew he had crossed a line.

Harry let out a nervous laugh. “You always had shit aim in Quidditch, careful before you hurt yourself.” He played it off. His fear was gone. He wasn’t scared of Draco, but for a second, it hadn’t been Draco holding the spoon.

“I’m sorry.” Draco said softly, going back to stir the sauce.

Harry took a deep breath. “Don’t be. You couldn’t’ve known.” He was a bit disappointed that he hadn’t played his reaction off as well as he wanted to.

The room was silent again. This time, the silence was uncomfortable. Harry hated that. They had been doing so well. Two weeks of nothing and they had finally managed to make a joke and do something together. He couldn't let their bit of progress be ruined. He tried to think of something else to talk about, something to bring the mood back. His eyes went down to the noodles and he got an idea. “Do you know how to tell when the noodles are ready?”

Draco shook his head.

Harry got a noodle out, “You flick it at the wall. If it sticks, it’s ready.” He flicked it onto the wall and the noodle stayed for a second, before lamely falling. “Not ready yet.”

Draco looked at the noodle on the floor. “You can’t be serious.” He looked back up at Harry in disbelief. “Are you serious?” The corners of his lips threatened to lift, showing how amused he was by the idea of throwing noodles around the kitchen.

A dull ache struck Harry’s chest. He very badly wanted to make a pun about Sirius Black, given how his name sounded exactly like "serious", which Draco had just asked him if he was, but he knew Draco wouldn’t get it. Instead, he simply nodded while he fought back the urge to laugh at the joke he made in his head. “Of course! Cooking can be fun. Since I started doing it for myself I’ve found that I enjoy it.”

“Was a meal not worth it before?”

Harry’s smile faltered and as much as he didn’t want to, he decided to be honest. “Well, I was only allowed to eat scraps and things I accidentally messed up.”

Draco’s expression clouded over with shock. He couldn’t believe someone would do that to a child. Even knowing what he knew about Harry, he never would’ve assumed someone could do that to a kid. He turned back to the sauce, slowly stirring and wishing he hadn’t even tried to have a normal conversation. He should’ve known better. They aren’t normal. They can’t be normal.

Harry tensed a bit and pulled out another noodle, offering it to Draco. “Want to throw it?” He was desperate to diffuse the awkward aura that turned the atmosphere into something suffocating.

The blonde took the noodle and felt a bit silly. Nevertheless, he flicked it at the wall, and it stuck. “It’s done!” He seemed quite surprised and proud of himself.

Something about that made Harry smile. “I suppose it is. Go ahead and taste the sauce, see if it’s any good.” He instructed as he turned the cooker off and went to set the table.

Draco tasted it and found it to be phenomenal. “Harry, this is amazing!”

Harry didn’t know what overcame him, but he felt his cheeks burn from the complement. “Oh? Uhm, thank you.” He looked as if he had no idea how to respond to a compliment.

While they were getting their plates, Draco noticed Harry giving him a bewildered expression. He furrowed his eyebrows, “What?”

Harry blinked a few times, “When did you get taller than me?” He had never really paid much attention to the other’s height. They had also never stood close enough for it to be noticeable. But here they were, half a meter apart, which was close for them.

“I’ve been taller than you since fifth year.” He pointed out as he realized he had to look slightly down to meet Harry’s eyes. He was easily about ten centimeters taller.

They finished making their plates and sat down together. They didn’t speak much, but at least they spoke. Draco twirled the noodles around his fork while Harry shoveled it into his mouth. The contrast was stark but neither said a word on the matter.

The usual gloom of the atmosphere had dissipated. Things had changed. Just by offering to help cook spaghetti, Draco managed to permanently change their dynamic. They didn’t feel awkward or guilty, but instead, they felt like they had a shot at being friends.

For the first time since Draco had moved in, he didn’t go into his room after dinner. Instead, he grabbed a book from his room and found a comfy spot on the sofa while Harry did the dishes.

Harry was a bit surprised to see Draco curled up with a book on the right end of the sofa, but he cracked a small smile and sat on the other end, reviewing some documents about a piece of legislation that was going to be presented at Wizengamot the next day. He had an entire speech that detailed his arguments and counterarguments. It was their final day discussing the enforcement of the rights of house elves, and he’s been very passionate about it ever since he befriended Dobby.

Draco, on the other hand, was caught up in the fantasy world where he was a noble being wooed by some swashbuckling thief. He couldn’t help how the book appealed to him, the pirate gave gifts and did so many little favors for the nobleman, like protecting the ports and intimidating political rivals. He absolutely adored being pampered like that, which he thinks is one of the reasons he doesn’t hate living with Harry. Although it was under terrible circumstances, he’s taken care of, and he can’t help but to enjoy that. Not to say he was wooed by Harry in the slightest, but he did enjoy the pampering.

Harry didn’t even see it as pampering. He simply wanted to ease Draco’s transition into Harry’s home. He didn’t want Draco worried about the cooking or cleaning, he wanted to make it as easy as possible.

The two boys sat together on the couch, each occupied in their own little worlds. They had never been in the same room for so long, yet they were entirely unbothered by the presence of the other. It was nothing short of a miracle.


	6. The Cupboard Project

“Can you believe it? This is the first time my name has been in the press without your involvement, I did it all by myself, and it's about _this_!”

“‘Mione, didn’t they give you an award?”

Hermione quickly turned around and looked at Harry. “It isn't about an award. If this is the thing I go down in history for, I’ll come back and haunt the daylight out of anyone who has anything to do with Divination!”

“But isn’t Ron particularly good at it?” He pointed out with a small smile.

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back around, continuing to lead Harry through the busy Ministry. “Just come on, Minister Shacklebolt wants to see you.”

Harry chuckled and followed. “I don’t see why this is a bad thing. I know you didn’t exactly mean to repair divination by telling them Pluto isn’t actually a planet, but it reflects quite good on you. I bet you’ll have their vote when you’re running to be Minister after Shacklebolt.”

She tilted her head and thought a moment. “I suppose your right.” She said before knocking on Shacklebolt's office. “Minister Shacklebolt? I’ve got Harry Potter, as requested.” In her internship, she worked very closely to Shacklebolt, often running errands for him and taking notes in meetings.

A voice came from inside, “Thank you, Granger, send him in.”

When Harry had first been hunted down by Hermione and told that the Minister wanted to see him, he immediately assumed he was in trouble. He had spent much of the walk trying to figure out what he had done wrong, but now that he was entering the office, he hadn’t a clue what he could’ve done.

In the short time he'd had it, he's taken his job very seriously.

To create, alter, or nullify a law, Wizengamot must come to some kind of agreement between at least two-thirds of the members. To do this, debates would be held before time to vote. The older members, who were closer to Voldemort and of higher status, were as stubborn as ever. Even newer members of higher status stood with the older members, working to refuse any change that Shacklebolt or young rebels pushed for. At every debate, each side’s argument was jumbled and filled with repetition due to people scrambling to feed off each other. They'd all argue in circles for hours each week and the impartial members felt intimidated to not pick a side. No progress was the same as a win for the stubborn members.

Harry didn't do anything about it until the second week. That was the week he came in with a vengeance. He made himself an expert in any and everything surrounding the laws they had to look in to. His arguments were backed with evidence. He addressed counterarguments and tore each one apart with the information he had amassed, all while remaining respectful. His pace was relentless, and he didn't waste a second. He made himself a master at debate. He left Wizengamot speechless, so they were called to vote.

Harry won.

With that, people afflicted with lycanthropy were given full rights as members of the magical community and were removed from the list of creatures. They were also given their own department in the Ministry, which created nearly a hundred new jobs for them. It was called, “Lupin's Law”. The legal term for werewolves was also changed to, “people afflicted with lycanthropy”. By calling them werewolves, one could argue that the rights of “people” didn't belong to them, as they were not people. It was an intentional wording that allowed bigots to push their ideals into law. Now, it was undone.

Harry did this in every debate. He built his arguments, remained calm and reasonable, had a will to compromise, and pushed Wizengamot to get things done faster. Because of him, news came out of many laws being created and altered.

With all that under his belt, he couldn't imagine he'd done something bad enough to warrant a meeting with Shacklebolt himself.

The Minister greeted him with a smile, which he took as a good sign. “Please, take a seat, Potter.”

Harry sat down and gave a polite smile. “How can I help you?”

“Well, I have a small task for you. I know your duties in Wizengamot keep you busy, but I was hoping to expand your responsibilities. I saw your work in Dumbledore’s Army. You organized and trained while hunting down Horcruxes, your leadership skills are as striking as your passion, which is why I wanted to hand this over to you personally.” He began to flip through a file, looking for something specific.

Harry was soon handed a piece of parchment entitled, ‘The Cupboard Project’. He raised an eyebrow when he realized it was a rough plan for social services. “You named this after me?”

Shacklebolt nodded, “It was Granger’s idea. She didn’t tell me why cupboards were significant to you, and you don’t have to tell me, but I trust she picked a good name.”

Harry stared at the parchment for a moment, his emotions running numb. He swallowed, and without thinking, clarified, “Growing up, my aunt and uncle locked me in the cupboard. It was my bedroom.”

The smile on the Minister’s face slowly faded as he was hit with the significance. “Oh.” Was all he could get out for a while. “Well, we were hoping that you could help set it up. I want you and Granger on this. She seems to have the resources to learn about the Muggle equivalents, and you understand what those children need. This will help a lot of people.”

In Wizengamot, they hadn’t passed an actual plan for protective services, but addressed all the issues that the new department would need to be responsible for and described what they could do. It detailed a plan for adoption and a better procedure for housing displaced children. It also finally made verbal, physical, magical, and psychological abuse illegal.

Harry took a deep breath as he stared at the renamed incentive that he had very passionately developed in Wizengamot only a week and a half ago.

“Alright.” He said softly.

“Excellent, tell Granger I want you two working on this immediately. I except a rough plan in a week.”

“A week?” Harry questioned with wide eyes.

Shacklebolt nodded, “Of course. We need to get this started yesterday. Do you know how many displaced children there are from the war? Tell Granger that she’s dismissed from her regular duties and needs to focus on this project.”

Harry quickly nodded and stood. “Better get right on it, then.” He left the office and found Hermione waiting outside. “Shacklebolt told you he wants you on The Cupboard Project?”

Hermione nodded.

“Did he mention you’re dismissed from your regular duties for the next week? Because a week from today we need to have a rough plan.”

Hermione’s face fell. “Then what are we standing around for? We should go to a Muggle library, somewhere with computers. This’ll never get solved here.” She all but dragged him out of the Ministry.

Thankfully, their clothes were casual enough to pass in Muggle or wizarding society. They quickly took to the streets of London and went to a public library. Harry was a bit surprised to see Hermione pulling out an old library card to get access to the computers, but by the same token, it was strangely endearing. He’d missed regular libraries and the internet.

Hermione opened up a word document and began looking up different social services from around the world, copying and pasting information. They ended up with nearly thirty pages of information. After a few hours of conversation, they shorten it to ten pages by ridding it of repeating clauses, summarizing, and avoiding complex language. Calling it “rough” would be an understatement.

“Right. Now we just need to organize it and expand it to apply to magic.” Harry commended as he looked over the untidy document.

They focused their efforts on smoothing out the process for the protective services. How someone could report abuse, how it would be investigated, what was to happen to the family while the investigation went on, and how the court should go about handling the case.

It wasn't all work and no play. Occasionally, they’d get off track and have impromptu conversations about whatever came to mind. One major thing they discussed was Draco.

“So, you’re legally married to him.” She commented, unsure of how to go about it.

Harry nodded, “That I am. It’s uhm. It’s been an experience. Though I must confess, it hasn’t really been as bad as I thought it would be.” He peeled his eyes off the screen and seemed to think a moment. “Going into it, I think we were both a bit afraid of the other, but, we’re alright now. We can sit in the same room and fill it with a comfortable silence. We eat together. Sometimes we do talk, but not much. I even taught him to make spaghetti.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, seeming a mix of shocked and amused. “Well, that could be worse.” She remarked, “Would you say that you’re friends now?”

Harry tilted his head and shrugged, hesitating to answer. “We aren’t not friends. That’s all I can say for sure. We don’t hate each other, but it’s a bit too early to call us friends.”

Hermione was satisfied with that answer, and they went back to editing their plan. “Alright, we now have an official plan to investigate and prosecute people charged with abuse. Now we need to do this all over again with an adoption process and housing orphans. Fuck, we forgot to expand it to apply to magic.” She couldn't help but yawn and rub her eyes. “Merlin, we've been staring at this screen for hours.” Hermione glanced down at the digital clock in the corner of the screen, seeming disappointed by what she saw. She pressed the button to print the document as she spoke, “I'll take home what we have and we can meet here later to keep working.” She packed her things, “I'm late for dinner.”

Harry looked at the time and his eyes widened. “I'm late too, dammit.”

They hurried back to the Ministry's, each taking a Floo home.

Harry stumbled into his sitting room with an apology already on his tongue. He saw Draco was sitting on the sofa, reading a book, hardly even noticing him. “I’m so sorry I’m late. Shacklebolt put me and Hermione on a new project, we’ve spent all day trying to figure this out, and we have no clue what we’re doing.” His voice was dripping with stress, but he still felt guilty.

Draco looked up from his book with a raised eyebrow. “Why are you apologizing?” Firstly, he hadn't even expected Harry to speak to him as they rarely spoke. This was the most Harry had ever said to him at once. He was also genuinely confused as to why Harry felt the need to apologize; it wasn't as if Draco had been waiting around for him.

Harry blinked a moment. “Because I’m late, I’m supposed to cook.”

Draco was taken aback as he realized what this was really about. Harry had slowly reverted back to his domestic expectations when he lived with the Dursleys, he was apologizing because he thought he had genuinely done something bad. “I’m not helpless, Potter. I made myself a sandwich and I rather liked it. You don’t have to be here to cook for me. I can handle myself.” Though he spoke with a serious tone, there was a bit of understanding interlaced with it.

Harry suddenly felt the need to apologize a second time for seeming to undermine Draco’s independence, but he worried apologizing again would make it worse, yet he also feared that saying nothing would also be bad. He didn’t know what to do, but he was desperate not to ruin the progress they’d made in their road to friendship. “I know you’re capable, I just-” He cut himself off to think of the right words.

“Potter,” Draco interrupted, “I know what you meant. Now go eat something.”

Harry silently nodded and went into the kitchen, deciding on leftovers from the night before. He appreciated how Draco took his apologies. He was also grateful that Draco had interrupted, because he still didn’t know where he was going with the second one.

Part of him was shocked that Draco seemed to understand to a certain extent. It was as if Draco understood exactly what Harry was trying to say but also pushed the idea that Harry's current domestic life is vastly different from his previous one. He made it clear that Harry was no reason to be sorry for anything, yet he was strangely compassionate as well.

After eating and doing the dishes, he was going to go to his room, but paused when he saw a mess of blonde hair peeking out over the arm of the sofa. He stepped closer and saw Draco was asleep in an incredibly awkward position. Part of him was in awe that Draco trusted him enough to fall asleep out in the open; the only place Harry would've felt safe enough to do that was the Burrow. Another part of him knew Draco would be sore if he was left to sleep like that. He wanted to wake Draco up, but he was also vaguely acquainted with the blonde’s struggle to fall asleep.

Harry had three options: he could leave Draco there, but he didn’t want to hear Draco complaining about being in pain tomorrow; wake Draco up, but he didn’t want to ruin Draco's first good night’s sleep since he moved in; or he could carry Draco to bed. Besides waking Draco up in the process and probably getting mocked, he saw no real downside.

He moved to the front of the sofa and squatted down. He very slowly and carefully slipped his arms underneath Draco’s curled body. There was a moment’s hesitation before he took a deep breath and lifted the man. Though Draco was quite tall, his body was very lithe and not that muscular. Besides Quidditch, Harry could tell that Draco didn’t do much to build his strength, and it’s been over a year since Draco last played. Harry had no trouble in carrying the sleeping lad to his room and laid him on the bed. Draco must not have gone anywhere that day, because he was still wearing the silk pajamas he had the night before. He pulled back the duvet and covered Draco up, watching the blonde snuggle into his own warm bed. He found himself smiling for some reason. Draco was strangely adorable like this, though Harry would never admit it.

He walked away and retreated to his own room, putting on his pajamas and sitting on the edge of his bed. He was exhausted. He laid under his own duvet and curled up into the fetal position, closing his eyes. His own body heat warming the duvet as he slowly fell asleep.

In the back of his mind, he knew he'd probably have some explaining to do when Draco realizes that he didn't wake up in the same place he fell asleep. Maybe he had made the wrong choice, maybe moving Draco in his sleep and entering his room was a violation of trust or privacy, maybe he would just get lucky and Draco wouldn’t mind it. He decided that if Draco does confront him about it, he'd prefer a few taunts to Draco actually being upset. Everything about their living situation was tedious. They were walking on eggshells and Harry knew that one mistake was all it would take for he and Draco to go back on all the progress they had made. Which, given how they used to always go at it, is quite an improvement. They were civil and that was enough for now.

After a few deep breaths and the weight of the day hitting him, Harry was out like a light.


	7. Patricide

The next day, Draco didn’t even realize he woke up in a different place from where he had fallen asleep. He was unaware until he was getting ready to meet his mother for lunch. As he walked by the couch to go to the Floo, he realized that he had fallen asleep on the couch, but woke up in bed. It was a matter that he decided could wait until later.

In his arms he carried a small basket where warm brownies sat wrapped in a dish towel. Harry had gotten up at some ungodly hour of the night and decided to bake. The smell woke Draco up and they ended up silently goring themselves on the dessert, both going back to bed just before sunrise. Harry offered some for Draco to take to his mother, since he knew they were meeting.

He entered the Floo, speaking his destination and he appeared in a familiar sitting room where he was greeted by a few excited house elves. He gave them all a genuine smile. “You lot have no idea how happy I am to see you.” He confessed, shocking some elves, but they were happy to see him as well.

His mother came rushing over to him and wrapped her arms around him. “Oh, my precious boy!” She said as she held him close. “I've been worried sick!”

He smiled and hugged her in return. “I’ve missed you.” He spoke in a soft tone, holding her close.

She pulled away and looked him over, her eyes narrow and determined.

“Wha-” He was about to question her, but almost immediately realized what she was doing. “He hasn’t hurt me, mother.”

“I just want to make sure. But please tell me you mean that. He hasn’t hit you, shoved you around, insulted you, nothing at all?” Her face was so serious that it was almost frightening. He feared what she might do if Harry had actually been hurting him.

“I swear it.”

She nodded, “Good, then. That’s good.” She brought him into the dining hall for tea. “Well, how has it been?”

He took his seat and sighed, trying to figure out how to explain the past few weeks. “Remember those stories in the paper that Harry never corrected, about how he was abused?”

Narcissa nodded, not liking where this was going.

“Turns out they were quite true. I don’t know much, but I’ve noticed some things. He spaces out a lot, he apologizes all the time, even about things that don’t matter. He came home from work late and apologized for not being there to cook dinner for me. I once pointed a wooden spoon at him, and I could see it in his eyes, he was terrified for a moment.”

Her lips parted and her hand slowly moved to cover her mouth as he spoke. “Merlin.” She sighed out the name, horrified. “How have things been for you?”

Draco tilted his head. “I haven’t really done much. I spend a lot of time with Pansy and Blaise, but at Potter’s house I don’t so much besides read.”

Narcissa raised an eyebrow. “He doesn't make you cook or clean?”

Draco shook his head. “No. He does the laundry and shopping on Sundays, cooks breakfast and dinner, keeps the house clean, works, and every time he goes out to do the shopping he'll always ask me if I want anything. I don't have to do anything at all.” He blinked a few times as if he was shocked by it all over again. “It really isn't what I expected. I expected for him to either hate me or ignore me, but he really does try to be nice. We don't talk very much, but when we do it's civil. We even eat dinner together and sometimes I'll help him cook. I offered once, and he taught me how to make spaghetti. Did you know that you can tell if the noodles are done by flicking them on the wall? If they stick, it's ready.”

His mother cracked a smile at the thought of flicking noodles onto the wall. “I'm happy that you two are getting along, but I'm so sorry your father did this to you. To the both of you.”

“It's fine. He's the head of house, you couldn't've stopped him.” Typically, the title of the head of a House wasn't used to commit abuse or atrocities, it was usually quite meaningless, but Lucius was invoking all its rights and powers.

She took a shaky breath and sipped her tea. “I still wish I could have done more.”

A sympathetic smile graced Draco's face. “It's okay. We'll be okay. I just consider us lucky that no one's found out yet.” It was decided that it would be best not to tell anyone of their arrangement. The only person he worried about was Lucius. He could tell everyone and make a spectacle of them, but in return, it would also make him the monster who married his son off for wine. Maybe they would tell the world later, if they became friends and got comfortable with each other, but for now, it was no one else's business.

“Of course. You don't need the harassment.” She agreed.

It was then that Draco delved into the story of being woken up by the smell of brownies. He handed her the basket and they ate the dessert while they spoke. Their conversation touched upon every subject they could think of, until a few hours later, when it looped back around to talking about Harry.

“How has Harry been adjusting? I know it must be a lot for him as well.”

Draco shrugged. "I honestly don't know that much about him. Our conversations are far and few, civil and short. We don't get very personal. All I really know is that he's having a bit of trouble at work. Apparently Shacklebolt put him and Granger in charge of some big project, and according to him, neither of them know what they're doing. Whatever it is, he isn't happy about it. That's actually why he made the brownies. He says cooking relaxes him.”

Narcissa seemed to softly cringe as a horrible thought passed through her mind. “He hasn't, uhm, tried to, ah-”

She was cut off by a male voice, Lucius, who had just entered the room. “He hasn't tried to relieve his stress with you, has he? I can think of quite a few ways that could be accomplished. But given your lack of bruises, I suppose it's safe to say he's yet to try anything violent. Doesn't narrow down the list completely, though.” He commended, finally vocalizing Narcissa's concern.

They both turned to shoot him a look. Narcissa upset and Draco furious.

“No. He hasn't hit me.” Draco sneered, his tone dripping with venom and his muscles tensing up as he tried to keep himself in his own seat; he was getting dangerously close to punching his father in the face.

Lucius raised an eyebrow, seeming amused. “Oh, well that's wonderful news. I wouldn't want you married off to some man who's nothing more than a seething ball of pent-up aggression. You used to bully him and his friends pretty severely, yes?”

He nodded, not trusting his own voice. He was nearly shaking.

“Mm. Well, let's hope the boy doesn't snap one day. It really would be a shame if he did.” He droned as he began to walk out of the room.

Draco couldn't take it anymore. He stood up from his seat and he called out. “What's this about? Is it because I wasn't a good Death Eater, because mum lied to Voldemort to make sure I was okay, because Harry ended the war?! What did we do to make you so furious that you would go off and do something like this?”

Lucius froze a moment, but somehow, he still seemed as satisfied as ever. He turned on his heel and faced his son. “Yes. To all of it. My own wife and son betrayed everything I’ve ever believed in, and some brat couldn't just sit down and know his place.”

“And what _is_ Harry's place?”

“A grave! The boy's meant to be dead, Draco, you know this. He refused to lay down and die. The world could've been so much better if everything had gone according to plan, if some kid hadn't gotten loud and rebellious, if my family weren't so deceitful! So yes, I've ruined your lives. I took everything you had ever hoped for, and I derailed it. But only because you did it to me first.”

A strange wave of relief hit Draco. He wasn't angry or sad or outraged. He was happy. He sat back down as the man left, his questions finally answered. An inept smile graced his face as he turned to look at his mother. “I get it. I finally understand.” He leaned in close as if he were about to reveal a secret, “My father died in the war, and that man is nothing more than the ghost of some stranger I might have known.”

Narcissa shared in his strange smile. “I think that's the best way to look at it.” It hurt to hear her son say that about his father, but by the same token, she knew it was best for him to think like that. He’d never stay sane if he didn’t.

Draco gave her a hug and stood once more. “I suppose it's time for me to go. I wouldn't want to miss dinner.”

She nodded and walked him to the Floo. “If he ever causes you any trouble, tell me.”

The blonde nodded, “Something tells me that even if I didn't, you'd find out.”

“Exactly. So there'd be no point in keeping secrets.”

They hugged one last time and said their goodbyes before Draco finally left.

He appeared in a familiar sitting room and took his place on the couch. Harry was sitting on the other side of it, looking down at some papers and taking notes on it. Part of Draco wanted to ask about what he was doing, another part wanted to ask about why he woke up in his bed and not the couch. Instead, he didn't speak a word. He sat there and took in the atmosphere of the room, looking around at every little detail. The furniture was a mix of deep and pastel colors. It all complimented each other surprisingly well. Tall windows with white curtains lit up the room with natural light. The pale blue walls looked like some clear and bright sky. Though it had its dark and deep shades, the room was quite happy. It had been decorated so carefully, it's appearance was entirely intentional. It was meant to relax and soothe its occupants.

So maybe it was the room, maybe it was his realization about his father, but something was different. For the first time, he wasn't nervous, he didn't feel misplaced, he didn't feel like he didn't belong. He felt strangely at peace with where he was.

He took a deep and silent breath before speaking to no one in particular, “I like this place.”

Harry looked up and seemed utterly floored. He didn't expect Draco to speak, let alone say something as profound as that. Of course, Draco didn't say that he liked being there, only that he liked the place, which Harry made sure to pick up on. “You do?”

Draco slowly nodded as he looked around. “It's bright, but a soft sort of bright, pastel. It still has darker and deeper colors about it.” He picked up a throw pillow as he spoke. It was a dark purple, all the throw pillows were, and it complemented the sherbet orange of the sofa and the pastel sky walls quite well. The dark and the light weren't clashing, the deep and the pastel weren't at war, but they played off of each other and worked together to give the room a calm atmosphere. “I quite like how it's decorated. It's peaceful here.” He held the pillow in his lap, still looking off.

Harry cracked a small smile. “I'm glad you like it. Hermione picked out most everything, if I'm honest. I really don't have an eye for color.”

“I've seen the outfits you've dressed yourself in for nearly a decade, trust me, I know you're colorblind.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Not colorblind, just blind.” He spoke in reference to his glasses.

Draco cracked a small smile of his own before finally questioning Harry about the night prior. “Oh, there's something I must ask you. I know I fell asleep on the sofa last night, yet I woke up in bed. Have you any idea how that might've happened?”

Harry shrugged, “Maybe you sleepwalked.” He suggested before finally coming clean, “I carried you to bed.”

“Why?” He wasn't sure how he felt about that. It wasn't something he expected Harry would ever do for him, but he also appreciated it in a strange way.

“Well, if I didn't you'd be in pain because of how you were lying. If I woke you up, I would have disturbed what was probably the best night's sleep you've had here. So I took a chance and carried you.” He said it as if it wasn't a big deal, as if he had been completely confident in his decision.

Alongside his newfound comfort, Draco was utterly shattered. His entire outlook on his father had changed, and he had to come to terms with the fact that even in his happiest childhood memories, his father wasn’t a good person. He was broken. He loathed everything, but he couldn’t loathe Harry. He was just too nice. “Why are you being so nice to me? You cook, you clean, you do everything.”

Harry was taken aback. He set down the parchment he had been looking over and gave Draco his full attention. “It's the same stuff I did when I lived alone. The only difference is I make a bit extra food for another person and there's a tad extra laundry. It's less than what I'm used to doing. It really isn't any trouble.”

“But you don't have to do it. I've done nothing to deserve your kindness. I bullied you, I was terrible! But here you are and you're so kind. I just don't understand!” Draco felt his own body heating up, his head grew a dull ache, he was stressed and he wasn't even sure why. At that moment, Draco knew what it meant to be killed with kindness, and it hurt like hell. “I can't understand.”

Harry recognized the distress, and he shifted to completely face Draco. “I meant everything I said when I defended you in Wizengamot. We're two sides of the same coin, you and I. I never wanted to be a hero and you never wanted to be a Death Eater. We didn't choose any of it. As far as I'm concerned, our pasts weren't us, not really.” He took a deep breath and found himself leaning closer to Draco, who seemed a bit calmer. “From my perspective, you've been forced to leave everything you've ever known to be here. I'd like to make it a bit easier in any way I can. So I don't want you to have to worry about the cleaning or having food. I do all of it for myself anyways. You aren't a burden.” Even though Draco didn't call himself a burden, Harry wanted to make it clear that he wasn't, just in case.

Though he didn’t say anything on it, in the short time Draco was gone, he’d picked up the scent of the Manor. It was a scent that made Harry’s stomach churn, and he hated how much it affected him when he was trying to have a moment with Draco.

The blonde gave a slow nod, his head feeling a bit better as he closed his eyes and took in the information. Typically, he would have been offended at the thought of someone pitying him. But he was older now, he was different, he wasn't who he used to be. He knew this wasn't pity. It was pure and genuine kindness. “Thank you, Harry.”

Harry was yet again taken by surprise at Draco's words. “You've never called me by my first name.”

Draco hesitated, and then asked, “Too far?”

“No, no. It's alright.” He bit his lip before giving a small smile. “Mind if I call you Draco? It would only be fair.”

The blonde shrugged, “I don't see why not. We are married; we ought to be on a first name basis.”

“I suppose we should be.” He said before turning to put away the parchment he had been looking over. He was about to stand up, but he stopped himself and turned to Draco, “Have you ever cooked salmon?” The scent of the Manor had him dying to cook.

Draco actually laughed at the statement, but still managed to scoff as he responded, “What kind of question is that? Of course I haven't!”

“Want me to teach you how?” He offered.

“Hmm, salmon for dinner would be lovely.” He gave a nod as he came to his answer, “I suppose.”

With that, both boys ended up in the kitchen. As strange as it was to admit it, Draco felt as if this could be his home. He also felt like the shorter, raven-haired boy just might be his friend.

The scent of salmon and vegetables filled the house, and they both felt a bit better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 Kudos! Thank you so much to everyone who has read my story. It's something I had been thinking about for a while but never felt confident in writing. I didn't expect it to get so popular, but I'm so thankful for it! I hope you continue to enjoy it because this is the most fun I've ever had writing a fic!


	8. Chocolate and Caramel

Hermione and Harry were in the Muggle library once again. They were nearly finished with their rough outline of the new department. All they had to do was organize a plan for adoption and housing orphans.

This was the part Harry was most excited about. He didn’t think it was right that the Headmaster of some school was the one who decided where he was to live. He especially didn’t like that he had to live with his aunt when Dumbledore would have personally known Sirius from their time in the Order, and he would’ve known that Sirius is his godfather. Harry didn’t care about the prophecy or ancient magic. He didn’t care if he had to live with blood relatives to seal the protection from his mother’s death. By all means, Sirius was an honorary Potter, and if that isn’t good enough then so be it. Even so, he was abused. He went to primary school with bruises that everyone ignored, yelling that neighbors pretended not to hear. He shouldn’t’ve been made to stay there.

He researched the ways different Muggle governments went about it and saw a lot of overlap. The overlap was copied and pasted directly into the document while other topics had to be debated and ironed out by Harry and Hermione.

They’d finally finished writing out plans for reporting, investigating, and prosecuting abuse. With two days left they were in the home stretch. This rough draft was meant to go through the entire department of magical law to edit it, Hermione and Harry were to review it once more, and then to Wizengamot and the Minister for approval. They were high on how close they were to finishing it all. Hermione was typing as fast as she could and Harry was reading off the final few paragraphs.

When Hermione finished typing they both let out a sign of relief. She hit print and rubbed her eyes. “I can’t deal with this anymore. I’m so done with this fucking document.” She grumbled as she went to the printer and came back with eight sheets of paper. “Now we just have to write all this out because you know they won’t accept printed paper.”

Harry gave her a smile, “I’ll write it out. You did all the typing, after all.” He offered.

Hermione looked overjoyed at this. She handed him the document and smiled. “Thank you so much, Harry. I feel like I’ll go crazy if I try to write it all out.”

Harry went over to a table with Hermione and pulled out parchment.

As he did this, Hermione commented, “I don’t see why Wizarding society is so scared to evolve just a tad. A pen is basically a quill that won’t run out of ink for months at a time. Much cheaper than constantly buying ink. Not to mention quills start to fall apart in about half a year if you aren’t careful. At least with pens you can buy a big pack of them and write for years.”

Harry nodded, “Exactly. that’s why I’ve started buying them.” He pulled out a pen with a mischievous grin and began writing out he first page. “The tip is cut to mimic the writing style of a quill. Bit more expensive, but it won’t raise any questions from anyone reading the document and it’s still cheaper than buying ink.”

Hermione grinned at this. She decided to accompany him for as long as he wanted to stay at the library. She had nothing better to do until dinner, and it was only a little past lunch.

They stayed there a few hours, griping about work and Wizard society. Harry wrote out the first two pages before needing a break. They spoke about Ron and his time training with the Aurors. The training program is two years, but with Ron’s experience, he was nearly halfway done. Two pages later and they were on about all the good their new Ministry department was going to do. It really was about time Wizarding society caught up in prosecuting abusers and taking better care of orphans. He got started on the second half while they bitched about Harry’s situation in being married off to Draco. They spoke about how things were civil, they had no problems, and they didn’t hate each other. He even brought up how he carried Draco to bed, and that he and Draco were on a first-name basis.

“Wow. First you teach him to cook spaghetti and now this, slow down, will you?” She joked.

“We’re already married. We might as well be on a first name basis.” He pointed out as he started copying down the seventh page. He’d covered almost a meter of parchment paper, which wasn’t terrible considering his handwriting was small.

Hermione couldn’t help but to smile at what she heard. “It sounds like you two are getting along pretty well. I’m glad you two are becoming friends.”

Harry cracked a smile. “I suppose we are. I never really thought about it like that, but, in this last month we’ve actually become acquaintances. I really hope we do become friends.” Harry has always believed that if one must fall in love and get married, they might as well do it with their best friend. Him and Draco becoming friends meant a lot more to him than Draco realized.

When he finally started on page eight his hand was aching. He shook it and checked the time. “We have another hour till dinner. Looks like we’ll finally be home on time.”

Hermione let out an amused hum. “Don’t jinx it.”

He muscled through the last page and they finally finished. He cut the used parchment off of his roll and then packed his stuff up with Hermione. “I’ll sent it to Shacklebolt after I get home.” He said as they left the library and headed to Ministry. They said their goodbyes and each took a Floo home. Hermione seemed to be in a great mood, happy that they finally finished their project. But Harry was worried. This was so incredibly important to him. This was his childhood. He really didn’t want to mess it all up.

He arrived in his sitting room with worry written all over his face. He pulled out the parchment once more and began to read it over.

Draco was seating in the other side of the couch. The moment he saw how stressed Harry was, he looked down at his book and grew silent. He’d gotten to the point where he would greet Harry in some way after he came home, but he couldn’t today. He suspected it had something to do with the conversation he had only two days ago at Malfoy Manor. His father describing how terrible it would be if Harry used Draco to unwind from work, whether it be violence or something else. Now here Harry was, finishing up some work, looking stressed.

Harry was almost done reading when the words suddenly became meaningless. He stared at the page and had no clue what he was looking at. It was as if a sleepy haze had taken him over, but he didn’t feel the need to close his eyes. In fact, he kept them wide open and just stared. His mind was blank and he forced his own inner monologue to fill it, telling himself that he couldn’t do this now, that he needed to focus. There was a pen in his hand in case he discovered any spelling errors. He took that pen and used the somewhat pointy end to poke the palm of his hand. He poked, drew patterns, and he used the sharp sensation to try to pull himself out of whatever he was stuck in.

He wasn’t entirely sure that it would work, but soon enough, he was able to slowly read the last of the parchment. He seemed it good enough, but only because Hermione had been half-responsible for it and she wouldn’t settle for anything less than a good job.

Harry rolled up the parchment and tied it with a string before sending it off to Shacklebolt.

He then went into the kitchen and silently began to cook. He never asked Draco to help him, but sometimes Draco would come to him and ask to help. Harry figured he was caught up in whatever book he was reading and didn’t want to pull away from it. He took his time in making baked chicken with rice and beans. He was in desperate need of some comfort food.

The chicken had an hour to cook so he decided he had enough time for a trip to Honeydukes. He needed chocolate.

He reentered the sitting room and awkwardly spoke to Draco. “I, uh, I have chicken baking. It shouldn’t be ready for another hour so I’m going to run to Honeydukes. Is there anything you want?” He offered.

Draco looked up from his book and blinked in surprise. “Oh, no thanks.” Harry’s kindness still occasionally baffled him.

Harry gave a nod and walked out the front door. He only lived about five minutes away from Hogsmeade, so he saw no problem in walking. He also enjoyed the nature. He liked the songs of the birds and the rustling of trees.

He took that five minutes to briefly reflect on his life. He gave werewolves rights for Remus, he’s putting a stop to child abuse for Sirius and himself, he’s enforcing the rights of house elves for Dobby, and he’s trying his hardest to make Draco comfortable. Really, Draco wasn’t a problem, it was the influx of laws and amendments that he was having to fight for in Wizengamot. At this point, he knew he only had to hold out for a few more months. It would all pass and Harry would be able to take it easy.

When he entered Honeydukes, he immediately wandered over to a familiar little corner that sold chocolate. He grabbed everything that looked mildly appealing and was about to check out, when his eyes drifted over to a candy he found somewhat familiar. He raised an eyebrow and thought a moment before realizing it was the candy Draco would always get during trips to Hogsmeade back in Hogwarts. He picked up the small white baggie with golden letters to see that it was caramel. All that time, Draco had been eating caramel. It wasn’t as if Harry had ever wondered what the candy was, but he was somehow pleased to know. He kept the bag even though Draco said he didn’t want anything. He was going to check out, but some familiar giggles caught his attention.

Harry looked up to see Dean and Seamus sitting off to the side, eating candy. He walked over to them with an awkward smile.

Seamus beamed at the sight, “Harry!” He greeted excitedly when he saw him approach from over Dean’s shoulder.

Dean turned around and grinned, giving his friend a hug. “Hey, mate! I haven’t seen you in months! I’ve read about all the things you’re doing in Wizengamot. You’re doing great.” He complimented.

Harry gave them each a hug and nodded. “Thank you. How have you two been doing?”

“Wonderful. We’ve got a flat together and we’re working in the Department of Magical Sports and Games. We’re trying to revamp all the merch, and Dean wants to be an official referee for the Quidditch World Cup.” Seamus explained with a grin, sounding proud of Dean.

Harry glanced between the two and gave a slow nod. “Ah, you two are living together? Couldn’t get enough at Hogwarts?” Part of it was a joke, and part of it was seriously questioning their relationship. It was no secret that Seamus and Dean had always looked at each other differently. Harry’s has a million conversations with Ron about whether or not they fancied each other. Neither of them had any problem with it, they were just curious.

Dean took a deep breath and decided to be brave. “I suppose not, so I made Seamus my boyfriend and we moved in together.”

“That’s wonderful! I’m happy for you two.” He flashed a genuine smile that seemed to relieve a nervousness he hadn’t even noticed they held.

“Speaking of which, Ron told us about your predicament.” Seamus mentioned it a bit awkwardly.

Harry knew that Ron had informed them of his new life as the redhead had asked before hand and Harry said it was alright. They deserved to know and he trusted they wouldn’t tell anyone. “Yea. It, uhm, it isn’t terrible. Draco really isn’t that bad. I’d like for us to be friends.”

“I hope that works out for you.” Dean said with a soft smile. He was a bit unsure of how he was meant to address Harry’s situation. It was strange, to say the least.

They spoke a while longer before Harry finally went to pay and walked back home. He had a small smile on his face from seeing his friends. He decided he would sent them a letter later to see how they were doing.

He found himself feeling much better as he entered his home to find Draco still on the couch, surrounded by the lovely smell of chicken. He coyly approached Draco and handed him the candy, “I know you said you didn’t want anything, but I remember you always had these at Hogwarts and they were on sale.”

Draco held the familiar bag and he blinked a few times in surprise. He looked up at Harry and uttered a small and hesitant thanks. But he looked more confused than anything. Although they had addressed Draco’s feelings of not deserving Harry’s kindness, this was something different. “Why?”

He wasn’t surprised by the other’s questioning. He actually expected it. “Candy makes me feel better.” He held up his own, “I figured candy might make you feel a bit better too. I can’t imagine this last month has been easy for you.”

Draco squinted as if he knew exactly what Harry was doing and wasn’t going to allow it. “No, I’m not going to let you do this.”

“Do what?” Harry was defensive without even knowing what he was accused of.

“This! What you always do. You go off and act like you have to be everyone’s savior, like you have to carry the weight of the world. I’m not a damsel in distress, Harry.”

Harry cracked a smile, “I’m very aware of that, Draco. You aren’t pretty enough to be a damsel.”

Draco rolled his eyes at the lame comment. “Now you’re insulting me to avoid the topic of conversation, because you know I’m right.” He was no fool. After years of growing up around manipulative people, he’s learned to become very receptive to social cues.

Harry paused a moment, almost impressed. Very few people recognized his bullshit, even less called him out on it. His shoulders slumped and he took a deep breath. “This is what I know, Draco. I know how to take care of people and situations, it’s what I do, it’s what I’ve always done.” He figured there was no point in bullshitting his way out of this one, so he decided to be honest. “I don’t know what else to do.” He looked off for a moment and a grin spread across his face. “Remember in third year, that one Quidditch match where I nearly knocked you off your broom? I actually felt a bit bad about it. I didn’t mean to almost make you fall. But then you opened your big mouth and called me a prat. Didn’t feel so bad anymore.”

The blonde couldn’t help but to give a sharp exhale to stifle his own laughter. “I remember. You told me to bugger off afterwards. Remember that one fight we had fourth year? I punched you so hard I almost broke your glasses. I felt a bit bad, until you kicked me in the shins.”

Harry let out a single laugh at the memory, not actually wanting to laugh at the memory of hurting Draco, but it was strangely hilarious. Somehow, when he thought of their past skirmishes, they seemed so small and silly. It was as if none of it really mattered anymore. “These glasses are absolute shit.” He took them off and watched the world around him go a bit fuzzy. “They were my father’s actually, they aren’t the right prescription for me. I ought to get new ones.”

Draco’s smile fell and he blinked in shock. “Can you even see in those?” He never once considered that Harry had slight problems even with his glasses on.

“Mostly, yea. I’ve learned to make out words, but everything’s just a bit blurry. I can’t see in complete detail.” He looked around for an example. “Like that throw pillow over there.” He pointed to the one beside Draco. It was light blue but had very small dark blue dots. “It’s spotted, yea? The spots are too small for me to see. I only know it’s spotted because Hermione told me. I assume the spots are some shade of blue, similar colors can make it harder for me to make out details.”

Draco looked at the pillow and then at Harry. “You’re getting new glasses as soon as possible.” He demanded.

“As you wish.” He joked as he slipped his glasses back on and walked into the kitchen.

Draco took a deep breath and felt a bit guilty. He couldn’t believe that only an hour ago, he was worried Harry would hurt him. He should’ve known better. But he also knew that he wasn’t entirely wrong to be afraid or suspicious. He set his book down and rubbed his face, feeling a mix of stress and exhaustion. He wasn’t even sure why.

It was then that he decided he needed a break. It has been a while since he’s visited Pansy. He wrote a quick letter, asking her to tea that weekend.

The response was a yes, so they set a time and place. Afterwards, Draco went to have dinner. Yet again, Harry was a messy eater while Draco hardly got a crumb on his face. Every day, Draco has been pushed closer and closer to commenting on it. He really ought to.


	9. Decorum and Diatribes

While Harry took a day to spend time with Dean and Seamus, hanging out and catching up, Draco spent his time with Pansy.

“Flicking noddles at a wall? You’re certain that’s how you tell if it’s cooked?” She asked as she looked at Draco with a raised eyebrow.

Draco nodded, “I swear it. He showed me and let me throw one. It works.”

Pansy let out a laugh tilted her head. “It seems as though you two are getting along. Think you’ll ever be friends?”

“I think it’s very possible.”

“Well, what are your plans for the holidays, then? Christmas is next month and I can’t imagine you intend to return to the Manor.”

Draco frowned and picked up a biscuit. “It’ll be my first away from home. But I don’t want to return. I’d really only want to see my mum. Potter’s likely to spend the holiday with the Weasleys. I suppose I don’t have any plans.”

“You could try to come to mine, but I doubt my parents would be happy about that.”

It was silently understood that Pansy’s parents were part of the group that considered Draco to be a blood traitor.

“It’s fine. Actually, I think I might want to spend a bit of time with Potter. If we’re going to be friends, we really might as well. When you’re finished with your parents, you can come and visit a while. I doubt I’ll be invited to any balls this year.”

Typically, the elite of the wizarding world held a slew of balls, gatherings, and dinner parties around the holiday season. But given the circumstances, he doubted there would be very many or that he would be invited to any. Part of him was upset as he did enjoy the good food and dancing, but he was also thankful he wouldn’t have to deal with the judgment and stuffiness.

“Shame. You always tore up the dance floor.” Pansy joked.

They had met up for tea in a little restaurant that they’d been going to with their families since they were children. It was casual and familiar. They both found a strange comfort in the place. They both knew they’d never come here again with their parents as things had changed within both of their families, but they hoped to make memories and turn the restaurant into their own space.

“The Ministry throws a Yule ball every year. Maybe Harry will take you.” Pansy suggested with a hopeful tone.

Draco scoffed and looked bewildered at the idea. “Why would he take me? We may be married, but it’s only a social arrangement.”

Pansy shrugged. “Maybe he’d want to spend time with you during the holidays. You’re on your way to being friends, after all. If he doesn’t bring you, I will. You can be my date.”

He let a sly smile slip. “I can’t recommend having a gay man as a date, Pansy. But if you insist.”

They both gave small chuckles and continued their conversation. There was much to discuss, especially about how Draco was meant to cope with his new life. He was used to extravagant decorations and baked goods always available during the holidays. He was used to traditional meals and celebrations. He doubted Harry had any of that. In fact, he was willing to bet Harry hardly ever got any Christmas presents either.

“Why don’t you bring it up slowly? Ask him how he’s used to celebrating the holidays, compare, and compromise. I may be single, but I do understand that communication and compromise are part of a healthy relationship.” Pansy pointed out as she finished off the last of the biscuits.

Draco rolled his eyes a bit. “This is so stupid. I can’t believe I’m married to this bloke. He doesn’t know the first thing about etiquette or class. He eats like a pig!”

“Is he messy?”

“Not really, but he inhales his food like it’s the only meal h-” Draco cut himself off and gave a slightly horrified expression. He was hit with a terrible realization. “Oh Merlin, it’s because he was starved.”

Pansy froze and her lips parted in shock. “That’s terrible.”

“I can’t believe I was judging him on that.” He blinked a few times and shook his head. “I didn’t even consider.....” He trailed off, knowing he didn’t need to finish his sentence.

“It’s fine, let’s just move on.”

They spoke a little while longer, changing the subject from Harry to Wizengamot. They discussed the newest laws and amendments that had just entered.

Apparently, things were slowing down in Wizengamot. Now that all the rebels and the Minister had gotten the change they wanted, there wasn’t much to do anymore. Now they mostly worked on criminal cases, which lasted a lot longer than their political discussions, mostly because Harry wasn’t able to shut it down with one small speech. They had to sit and listen to predicaments, hear all sides of the story, look at evidence, and come to a legal decision on the verdict and punishment.

It was a pleasant conversation that ended with them sharing a parting hug before they each headed home.

When Draco arrived he saw Harry hunched over the kitchen table, parchment spread out. He hung up his coat and softly spoke to the other, “I thought you were spending the day with Dean and Seamus?”

“I was.” Harry sighed as he shuffled some pages around, trying to make sense of something. “Uh, remember the thing I told you about The Cupboard Project? It went through the legal department and now it’s finally back to me, revised and strengthened. I have to check it over but there’s a lot of legal language I don’t understand.”

Draco could tell he was stressed so he took a cautious step forward. “I might understand some of it.” He offered, “I was taught all about wizarding law growing up.”

Harry managed to crack a smile. “Of course you were.”

The two spent the next twenty minutes looking over the language, with Draco explaining what things meant and helping him edit anything that wasn’t to his liking.

“Right. Now I have to send it off to Hermione, then it's round two in the Ministry and I have to find a lawyer to sponsor the department.” He mumbled as he set his head down on the table.

Draco decided some light conversation couldn’t hurt. He wanted to get a bit closer to Harry before he brought anything up about the upcoming holidays. “Knowing you and Granger, this new department will come out perfect. She’d never settle for less and you care too much.” His eyes then drifted over to the small writing utensil in Harry’s hand. “What is that?”

Harry looked up and saw Draco’s eyes were focused on his pen. “Oh, it’s a pen. Muggle invention.”

“What does it do?”

“Well, you write with it. It’s like a quill but the point in finer so you can write smaller, or perhaps draw in greater detail. This one is cut like a quill so it mimics the writing style, but most pens aren’t like this.”

Draco nodded as if he was incredibly interested in the pen. To Harry’s amusement, he noticed the interest was genuine.

“What about the ink? How does that work?”

“It comes with an ink cartage inside of it. A pen will usually last months before you need a new one, much cheaper than constantly buying ink and the occasional quill. They also come in big packs. You can get a couple for cheap.”

Draco blinked a few times as if he were amazed. “Could I use it?”

Harry couldn’t help but to smile as he handed Draco the pen. “Sure. I have some regular ones too, if you want to see how a standard pen writes.” He offered as he sent off the papers to Hermione.

“Yes, I should like to see those as well.” The blonde mumbled as he began writing on a spare piece of parchment, only to discover it wrote exactly like a quill. Upon receiving the standard pen, he was shocked to see it produced thin and sharp letters.

“This is so much better than quills!” He exclaimed. “It would’ve made note-taking so much easier if we had these in Hogwarts.”

Harry raised an eyebrow and cracked a small smile. “You can keep it, if you want. I have six or seven more.”

Draco decided he very much liked pens.

Harry began cleaning up the scrap parchment from the table before a small smile spread across his face. “Oh, by the way, you left one of your books out in the sitting room. I didn’t touch it, but uhm, Seamus recognized it.”

Draco froze and slowly looked up at Harry with reddened cheeks. “Which book was it?”

“The Captain’s Affair.” Harry recalled with a giggle. “The one about the pirate and the nobleman.” Another laugh fell from his lips and he shook his head. “Apologies, I’m not laughing at you. It’s just a bit cheesy.”

Draco glared. He was overcome with a mix of embarrassment and shame. His entire life he never had books for someone like himself, and now that he did, they were being made fun of. Not to mention they were one of he only things that made him feel better about the situation he was in, even though they teased him about a concept of love that he would never know.

He scoffed and crossed his arms. “I doubt you know anything about literature, Potter.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just a bit funny. A man of status being won over by a swashbuckling buccaneer.” He tilted his head and grinned. “Is that what you’re in to?”

Draco’s glare intensified and he quickly shot up from his seat, slamming his hands on the table. “You’d better shut up, Potter!” He wasn't just embarrassed by his choice of literature, but in some ways, he was ashamed, and he hated that. He wanted to embrace the thing that gave him joy, he wanted to be proud of it, but it was difficult.

Harry didn’t mean to react like he did, but he couldn’t help it. Draco moved just a bit too fast, slammed his hands just a bit too loud, and his words were a tad too threatening. He flinched and nearly fell back onto his arse. He braced himself on the wall and blinked a few times. “Sorry.”

Once Draco realized what he had done, he backed off. His lips parted in shock and he shook his head. “No. Oh Merlin, don’t be sorry. This was me, this was all me. I shouldn’t’ve done that.”

“I shouldn’t be teasing you.” In truth, Harry was angry. He was angry at himself and Draco. He hated how Draco so easily sent him into a momentary panic. For a split second, he wasn’t sure what Draco was going to do, and he hated that most of all. He couldn't stand how he lost himself in the moment. He let out a huff, “It was just a joke, it wasn’t meant to go that far.”

“Well, those books are my private property. It isn’t your business what I read.”

“I wasn’t trying to figure it out!” There was a tension between them that had never been there before. Even their first day wasn’t like this. On that first day, they were both scared, but right now, they were angry. “Seamus just recognized it and went on about how he liked the book.” Every suppressed frustration Harry's had about the situation was starting to resurface bubble over.

“Well excuse me for wanting some of my things to myself.” He didn't want to have an argument, but he was furious at himself. He hated how he was ashamed of the books he read.

Harry raised his eyebrows as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Then why leave them out in the sitting room?!” He had to momentarily remind himself of all the progress they had made. How he carried Draco to bed and bought him caramel. He reminded himself so he didn’t do something stupid to ruin it all.

“Forgive me for making myself comfortable, then. This is meant to be my home too, so I’d like to be able to leave my stuff out without anyone snooping!” Draco had no problem with making his expectations clear. Part of him knew this was going too far, but he was tunnel-visioned. All he saw was his own anger. He was angry at the lack of control in his life, angry that his father threw him away, he was angry that he had to live with Harry, and he was angry at himself for reading those books. This made him feel better about it.

“No one was snooping! Seamus just recognized it and liked the book, so he got excited and told us about it! I’m not going to go through your books, nobody is! Just calm down, will you?” He was absolutely exasperated and desperate for this to end. Though he had no problem holding his own, he didn’t like conflict.

Draco raised an eyebrow and his eyes turned furious. He couldn’t stand being told to calm down. He’s spent his entire life keeping calm, keeping up appearances, and pretending. But there were no expectations here, no consequences. So he finally lashed out. “Alright, Potter. My mistake for getting comfortable, yea? I’ll get my books out of the sitting room, then. But don’t worry, I won’t do it too fast or too loud, wouldn’t want to scare you.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. He stared at Draco for a moment, frozen. The air was knocked from his lungs and no words came from his parted lips. He eventually broke through his bout of speechlessness. “I can’t believe you just said that.” His voice was softer, hollow. He couldn’t even begin to formulate a response beyond that. He didn’t know what to say, let alone how to process his own emotions. It was like being hit with cold water. There was only shock, and just a hint of betrayal.

The blonde froze when he realized what he had done. He was incredibly embarrassed by what happened with his book but he knew that was no excuse. He should’ve listened to Harry’s reasons and accepted that it happened, he should’ve moved on. But those books were important to him and the weight of many months of frustration decided to come out. His book was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

He didn’t know what to say. He knew there wasn’t anything that would made it better. Not now. “I’m so sorry.”

Harry was hurt. Typically their teasing in Hogwarts had never really bothered him. But this was beyond all of that. This dug deep into him and hit him in a weak spot he didn’t even know he had. He just gave a half-nod and walked out. He went into his bedroom, laying down and locking the door. He curled up and decided it was time for a nap.

His sleep only brought on a few vague nightmares. He woke up a few hours later and forgot them, anyways.

He got out of bed with a sigh and left his room. Upon glancing down the hall, he saw Draco wasn’t in his room. The sitting room and kitchen were also barren. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked around. Draco was nowhere to be found. He shrugged this off and figured he needed some time to cool off.

In truth, Harry understood. He knew Draco didn’t mean what he said and was only frustrated. But that didn’t change the fact that it hurt and it wasn’t okay. He understood, he was willing to forgive, but he refused to belittle the situation or blame himself. He deserved better and he knew this.

Three bars of chocolate later and he still felt like shit. He took a deep breath and sat at the kitchen table, trying to understand his own emotions. He was sad, a bit angry, he was worried, and he was hurt. Part of him hoped Draco would hurry up and come back so they could make-up and move on. He was already ready to put it all behind them. He wanted to take whatever difficult conversation they would have to have and put it in the past. But he was alone.

Sitting at the kitchen table, his foot began tapping as quickly as he could move it. He sniffed and wiped his eyes, noticing they had become damp. He shook his head and let out a chuckle of disbelief. He couldn't believe he was acting upset _now_. The situation was practically over with, but here he was, as if it had just happened. When Draco first said it to him, he didn't feel much of anything. The weight of those words had finally settled on him and he was hurt.

Had his struggles been that obvious?

Were they really that bothersome?

Harry knew he couldn't possibly be easy to live with, especially given the circumstances, but he didn't think it had been that troublesome. It wasn't as if he was requiring Draco to make serious changes to accommodate for his mental health. He had asked nothing of Draco. He just didn't understand why it even had to be brought up. Of all the insults, of all the quips, why did he have to say _that_?

He took a deep breath and stood up from the table, rushing to the fridge and pulling out ingredients. He needed to bake.

Draco, on the other hand, had spent the last two hours with his mum.

When he first appeared in the sitting room with tears in his eyes, she went into a frenzy, fully prepared to kill Harry. But he stopped her.

“He didn’t do anything. I did something.” He corrected.

This made her take a step back. She still brought him in and gave him a cup of tea, but she demanded an explanation.

After he explained what he had done, she was on the verge of killing him. “I can’t believe you would say such a thing! Draco Lucius Malfoy, I have a mind to hex the daylights out of you! This poor man has given you everything you need, respected you, shown you kindness despite your history, and you go and say a thing like that!”

“I know. I know. I messed up.”

“Then why are you here? Go apologize! You’re married, Draco! Whether you love him or not, that’s your husband. If you want your marriage to work, if you want to ever be his friend, apologize. You need to learn to work together.”

Draco gave a slow nod and finished his tea. “He’s asleep right now.”

Narcissa let out a sigh. “Fine. But it’s getting late, go ahead and stay the night.”

He accepted her offer and she got some house elves to prepare a room and get him some pajamas.

Harry was watching his second batch of brownies bake in the oven. He was starting to slowly struggle with the idea that this was somehow his fault. That he shouldn’t’ve brought up the book, or he should’ve just apologized for his teasing and moved on. Maybe he was a fool to think they could get along. Maybe he was dumb to believe he could make a joke like that without repercussions. But he had to keep reminding himself that Draco was the one who took it too far, and no amount of anger or embarrassment could justify it.

He stuck a cooled brownie into his mouth and realized he'd nearly finished his first batch. He chewed and felt a tear roll down his cheek. Part of him felt stupid for being so upset. But something about this cut him deeper than any insult that had ever been thrown his way.

He made some coffee and knew he wasn't going to sleep that night.


	10. The Boy Who Lived, Is Dead

The next day came and Harry still hadn’t heard from Draco. By lunch he was starting to get anxious. He decided to bake once again while he slowly lost his fight against blaming himself for the whole ordeal. In his moment of weakness he sent out a letter, reaching out to an old friend, an invitation for tea. It was accepted, and Luna Lovegood suddenly found herself arriving at Harry’s.

He poured them both a cup of tea and offered her the large amount of sweets he’d baked. Thankfully, he only made four batches of brownies before the need for sleep forced him to stop.

He made a bit of small talk before she asked him what was wrong. She knew why she had been invited over and had no plans to let him talk his way around the issue. Naturally, she was furious when she found out what Draco had done.

“I know you want to talk to him, but some distance might be good for the both of you. You can’t expect to get along all the time. You two need a short break, then you can talk it out.”

Harry found himself agreeing. “I know. I just want to get the conversation over with and have everything go back to the way it was. I don’t like these empty spaces in-between.”

“In-between what?”

Harry was silent a moment, thinking. “I don’t ..... I don't know. In-between events?”

“Harry, that's called life. Much of it is the space in-between. There’s a lot of learning and growing to be done in those small hours, you know.”

“Perhaps. I just don’t like the empty spaces.”

“Why not fill it with what brings you joy?”

Harry held up a brownie. “I tried to. I’m trying to now.”

“I know. It isn’t very easy when you’re so anxious for something to happen.” She have him a soft smile, hoping to calm his nerves. “Rolf and I have found some new evidence proving the existence of nargles. Would you like to hear about it?”

“I’d love to.” There was a sort of desperation to his tone. He was desperate for her optimism, for her faith, for her words. He wanted to be told about something wonderful.

So that’s what Luna did. She told him about the research they’ve done in proving the existence of nargles, and that she’s perfected her glasses that allow her to see them. She’s also working on a camera lens that could take a picture of them for definitive proof. It was an incredibly optimistic conversation that left him feeling a bit better.

"I can't believe you made all these." Luna commented as she took yet another sweet. They'd eaten nearly a dozen.

Harry cracked a smile. "Nothing better to do, I suppose." He said as he took in a deep breath. As much as he wanted to be present for their conversation, a sleepy feeling had taken over him, but it wasn't lack of sleep. He couldn't focused, falling silent and still. Nevertheless, he managed to voice his thoughts. "I can't stop thinking about how I reacted. In Hogwarts I never would've let someone talk to me like that. I probably would have skipped words and kicked his arse for that." He tilted his head and gave a small frown. "What happened to me?"

"It sounds like you were in shock. No one's ever attacked you for something like that. I see why you reacted differently."

"No, it isn't just that." He tore his eyes from the blank wall he stared at and made himself look at Luna. "I'm tired. I'm so tired." He almost seemed embarrassed by it. "I was bold and brave. I wasn't afraid of anything and I did everything to survive. I didn't let anyone mess with me. I had a fire. I was angry." He looked away, trying to find his words. "I never much liked the anger. Reminded me too much of them, I was scared of turning into them. Part of me thinks I might've been, for a while. But that's over now, all of it, gone. I'm not him anymore, am I?"

Luna knew this was about much more than his old fire and brashness. Harry had changed since the war. Despite his baking and penchant for chocolate, he was thinner, his eyes were distant and had seen far too much, he was a bit paler, and he didn't smile as much.

"No. You aren't." She agreed. She sat up and looked him in his eyes, needing him to hear this. "You aren't who you were yesterday, either. Nor are you the boy who took me to Slughorn's party, or the eleven-year-old who suddenly found himself thrown into a world of magic, you're not even the one that died alone in the woods and still got back up to fight Voldemort. You aren't the Harry that existed before or even during the war. Those versions of yourself are dead and gone. You can't _be_ them again, not after everything you've been through. All you can do is be who you are now."

"But I don't know who I am now!" Harry was distressed. He didn't know what he was meant to do with himself anymore. "I'm fucking married, I'm an adult, I have a job, this isn't exactly the best time to be having a mid-life crisis, this is far too early and far too late for that!"

"Well that's life, isn't it? It happens whether you're ready for it or not. I know it's too early, but you had to grow up much faster than everyone else, didn't you? I know it's too late, it's time for you to live your life, right?" Luna couldn't do this anymore. Of all people, she was one of the few who never treated Harry as if he was anything other than a normal boy. When they were together, she wasn't the weird girl and he wasn't The Boy Who Lived. She never gave him special treatment, and she certainly wasn't about to start. "It's time for you to be an adult, yea? Toil away in the Ministry, play house with Draco, and one day, if you're lucky, you'll drop dead in the middle of all of it. That's what you want, right?"

Harry blinked a few times. He wasn't entirely used to having someone call him out on his shit, but he was incredibly grateful that she did. "No. It isn't."

"Why not?"

He was silent. He didn't have a definitive answer.

"When you defended Draco before Wizengamot, you said that your entire life had been planned out since the moment you were born, that you never had a choice. Well now you do. It's time for you to look inward and start asking yourself the big questions. Who are you and what do you want? That's the only way you'll ever be happy."

He still didn't know how to even begin answering those questions, but he had his starting point, "I'm Harry and I want to live."

"Good. Then do it."

He sat back in his chair and a look of shock took over his features. His thoughts were far and few, but the longer he sat there, the faster that became. They weren't overwhelming, but beautiful. The corners of his mouth twitched and a smile spread across his face. "I'm not him anymore, am I?" This time, he wasn't upset, but immensely happy.

Luna shared his smile and nodded, "You aren't him. The Golden Boy, The Boy Who Lived, they're dead. Harry is all that remains."

"I'm Harry." He said it as if he had just discovered his own name. As if he had spent his entire life only as monikers, and now, he was finally himself. The Golden Boy, and The Boy Who Lived really were dead and gone. Harry was all that remained. He was an amalgamation of all the broken pieces, trying to squeeze back together and take shape. He was a mess and he couldn't've been happier. He was only Harry, and he was more himself than he had ever been.

The realization was like a breath of fresh air. What was once an identity crisis was now a rebirth. The old Harry was dead, and he felt so free.

The old Harry had expectations he had to follow. He was a character and Harry had to play the part. He had to be the hero he never wanted to be. But now, he had choices, nothing was expected of him, he could do anything and be anyone. He still had leftover pieces from the men he once was, but now his vision glittered with gaps and he saw only what he was missing. There were so many parts of himself to discover and create.

"This _your_ life now, Harry. Live."

Harry took a deep breath. In that moment, he made a decision. He might be married, perhaps his love life would have to be non-existent, but he still had so many other things he could do with himself. Maybe he didn't lose his fire, but rather, he lost the war that once fueled it. Now, he had other, better things to live for. He didn't quite know who he was, but he decided that was okay. He had the rest of his life to figure it out, and that's what he decided he would do.

"Thank you, Luna. Thank you so much." He beamed as he gave her a hug. When they pulled apart, his argument with Draco was the last thing on his mind. "Now, you have to tell me all about Rolf Scamander. You two are getting quite close."

The faint blush on Luna's cheeks made Harry;s jaw drop. "No! You like him?!" He sounded momentarily shocked before leaning forward in his chair. "Tell me everything."

\- - - - -

Draco, meanwhile, was still at Malfoy Manor. Both Narcissa and Pansy told him he needs to apologize. Still. He felt like that wasn’t enough. If he did apologize, he already knew Harry would forgive him. He wanted to do something more than that.

Narcissa was right when she said Harry had done so much for him. Harry had given him everything and he did it freely. He did so much to help Draco transition into his new life. In return, Draco was an arse.

He remembered Harry likes chocolate and considered buying some, but he knew Harry already had hordes of it. He wanted to do something to really make it up to him, but he couldn’t think of anything. He couldn’t cook like Harry, and he didn’t have many other talents. He was good at potions, a great Seeker, and he could speak French. None of this was helpful.

He finally caved in and did something he’d considered earlier, but put off after convincing himself it was a bad idea. Now, it seemed pretty smart. He wrote a quick letter to Hermione. He briefly explained the situation, recognized he was in the wrong, and asked how he could make it up to Harry beyond apologizing.

His father knew he was there but didn't speak a word to him. He came into the sitting room and saw him, looking sad and distressed. He only raised an eyebrow and left. Draco hated how satisfied Lucius probably was with the whole situation. He likely thought something terrible had happened to Draco and not the other way around. He wanted to lash out yet again, this time as his father, but he didn't. He hated himself when he was mad, he reminded himself too much of his father. He didn't want to be anything like that man.

He felt so stupid for having lashed out in the first place. He should have stood tall and agreed with Seamus' praise. He should have gone on and on about the beautiful plot, emotional turmoil, the important subplot of accepting one's sexuality, and the loving romance of it all. He should have made it known how proud he was to be a gay man, how it was okay that he was a gay man. But he didn't. He got embarrassed and angry.

Being anything other than heterosexual was fine to most eyes, but he knew his father was disappointed. Sure, there were surrogate mothers, but he'd never be married to a pureblood and have the next Malfoy heir in the way that every Malfoy before him had. He was different. He broke tradition.

He'll never forget the day that he, a fifteen year old, came along to his parents and told them he was gay. They were fine with it, but that night his father asked him over and over if he was certain that he _only_ liked men. From that point on, he was kept away from boys his age while unsupervised. He wasn't allowed any privacy at social gatherings. It was embarrassing and shameful. Hogwarts was the only time he had the chance to be himself and he almost felt bad about how many times he took advantage of it.

Of course, he couldn't sleep with any Slytherin boys as they would likely tell his father. He couldn't mess with Gryffindor boys either as he didn't trust them. He mostly spent his time around Hufflepuff boys. He made a few friends, found the ones also interested in men, and made careful offers of spending the night together with no strings attached. But these hot nights only lasted so long, because the very next year, in a sad attempt to please his father, he took the Dark Mark.

He wished he was prouder of his identity. But he didn't think he could do much now considering he was married. He realized that he still had a lot of growing to do, and he hoped he would find his way, but he wasn't sure how.

Maybe he needed to fool around, romantically. It was expected that he and Harry would fall in love, as with most pureblood arrangements, so Draco concluded he should expect love to happen. With that in mind, he saw no problem in eventually starting to flirt with Harry. It was all according to tradition, after all. But it was then that Draco realized he had no idea if Harry even liked men. He'd only ever date women and he didn't give off any obvious indicators, like reading homosexual romance novels. A wave of guilt washed over him as he realized Harry probably intended to marry a woman and have children.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Draco mumbled as he covered his face. He rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath, looking around the room.

Draco found himself in a strange situation. He looked around his old room and found himself dissatisfied with it. Everything about it felt strangely wrong. The color of the walls, the remaining furniture, the curtains, the bed's sheets, the pillows and blankets, even the floor was wrong. He didn't like this room. It was dark and suffocating. Although he appreciated the dark and heavy colors that littered Harry's home, he'd also come to like the bright and pastel. It was a perfect blend that gave each room it's own intentional feeling. The sitting room felt like a sky during sunset, his room felt like an enchanted forest, the kitchen felt simple and cozy, even the bathroom reminded him of the ocean. It was decorated with care, intent, and love. He felt none of that in the Manor. It was only dark and empty.

His own thoughts caught him by surprise, _'I want to go home.'_

But part of him wasn't surprised, not in the slightest. This place might have once been his home, but now it was only a sad reminder of his past. In the past month, Harry's house had become his home. It was still awkward and shy, but it was also warm and safe.

An owl came tapping at his window and he tilted his head. He opened it and took the letter from it's beak, watching it fly away. He looked down and his stomach churned as he saw it was from Hermione. He opened it after taking a deep breath and grimaced, preparing to be scolded like Pansy and his mother had done.

_'I'm glad you understand how wrong you are. I'd hate to waste a meter of parchment telling you off, or waste a trip to your manor to punch you in the face again.'_

The first line gave him a strange sense of ease. This was the best reaction he could have hoped for.

The letter when on to tell him that he needs to apologize, but it was also filled with pointers that he had never considered.

_'Don't give any empty promises, they mean nothing. Don't give any excuses or justifications, it isn't about you. Don't say you understand, you don't. Mean it and tell him how you'll fix your behavior. If you don't feel that's enough, apology gifts are also an appropriate route, but remember that Harry isn't like you or your crowd. He doesn't value expense or luxury. Take his interests and hobbies into consideration and I'm certain you'll find something.'_

It was so carefully thought out and socially perfected. Draco was momentarily confused as to why Hermione was a Gryffindor rather than Slytherin. He blinked in surprise and sent off a quick thank you.

He took a deep breath decided to head to Diagon Alley. He needed to find an apology gift.

He naturally wanted to gift him some nice robes or a suede satchel, part of him also considered getting him a book. He forewent those ideas and found himself looking at kitchenware, as Harry enjoyed baking. Still, he felt like it wasn't enough. He briefly considered a bouquet, but he doubted Harry would enjoy it. Then again, Harry did seem to enjoy nature. As he passed by the selections of bouquets, he found himself at seeds. There weren't a lot out, as the upcoming winter wasn't a very popular season to start growing anything, but they had out apple seeds and a few flowers. He bought them and made his way back home, feeling a bit better about himself.

He decided that tomorrow would be the day he made his apology, and hopefully, went back home.


	11. Red In Our Ledgers

The next day, just after lunch, Harry finally caved in. The more he thought about it, the worse he felt. Although he hadn't sunk as low as Draco, he wasn't blameless. He let his anger egg him on, he didn't let it go, and he teased Draco about something that was obviously important to him.

As he thought about it, he realized he didn't even know Draco was gay. He had never come out, which made him wonder if Draco was even comfortable with his own sexuality, and that made him feel even worse. He had to speak to Draco, but he didn't want to barge into Malfoy Manor unannounced, so he didn't take the Floo. Instead, he hopped on his broom and took off. He had a vague idea of where the manor was, and quite frankly, it wasn't exactly a small place. He knew he'd recognize it when he saw it.

He flew around in a bit of a frenzy, staying a bit too close to the ground and going a bit faster than he or his broom were used to. Nevertheless, he managed to make the thirty minute flight to Malfoy Manor without crashing. Though he did graze a tree.

Hanging off his broomstick, flapping in the wind as he went along, was a batch of cinnamon biscuits, charmed to stay warm.

He landed and awkwardly held his broom, dangling the basket off one arm while he used it to knock on the door. A small and disgruntled-looking house elf answered. "Yes?"

"I need to speak with Draco Malfoy."

"Sorry, but I've been instructed not to let anyone in besides family."

As much as Harry hated to say that they were married, he knew he had to. "I am family, I'm his husband."

The elf blinked a few times and seemed to realize something. "Oh, _you're_ Harry Potter. Apologies, sir, I didn't know your face." The elf let him in and took his broom. "Draco is in his old room. Upstairs, third one down the hall."

Harry nodded and set his sights on the grand staircase. He hesitated before he left, turning to the elf and making a final request. "Could you please tell Narcissa that I'm here?" He still respected her and didn't want to be in her house without her knowledge.

The elf seemed surprised at the small amount of respect he received. "Of course, sir."

With that, Harry was left alone in the great hall of Malfoy Manor. He looked around and realized he had more memories of this place than he'd like to admit. He shook his head and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He climbed the stairs and turned down the hall, counting the doors as he passed them. He came upon Draco’s door and stood outside it a moment. He was nervous, scared even. He didn't exactly know what he was doing. Not much thinking had been involved in his decision to pack up the biscuits and hop on his broom. It was more rash that he'd like to admit. But here he was, he'd come all this way to stand outside the room of his husband with a basket of sweets.

He took a deep breath and knocked.

"Mum, please. I'd like just another moment alone, then we can have tea." The voice came from inside, sounding nervous.

Now Harry felt a bit bad for coming, but he was already here. Too late to turn back. "I'm not your mum." He spoke halfheartedly, wanting to somehow make light of the situation, but he didn't know how.

Footsteps rushed to the door and it swung open. "Harry?!" There Draco was, in the same clothes he wore two days ago, staring at him in utter disbelief. His shock changed to guilt and sadness when he looked Harry over. "What happened to you?" There was a leaf in his hair and a scratch on his cheek.

Harry gave a sheepish smile and confessed, "Flew into a tree."

Draco was taken aback. "You _flew_ here?"

He nodded. "I didn't want to take the Floo, unannounced. Figured knocking on the door was more polite. I told the elf who let me in to inform Narcissa that I'm here."

The blonde seemed quite confused for a moment, before realization washed over him. "We're married." He said lamely. He had been trying to figure out why he was let in when he wasn't family.

Harry gulped and fidgeted a moment before holding up his basket. "I baked cinnamon biscuits. Uhm, I used almond milk because Pansy told me you have a dairy sensitivity, so it might taste a bit nutty, too."

Draco was frozen for a moment before he stepped aside and wordlessly let Harry in. He didn't know that Harry was aware of his sensitivity, but as he thought about it, he can't recall a meal where Harry used very much dairy.

When he entered, he saw the room was much bigger than he expected. It had a huge bed, a table, chairs, a sofa, a fireplace, and a desk. It was very luxurious. "Wow." He said softly as he looked around, feeling strangely small. From the moment he saw the manor, he felt like he was going to be sick, but somehow, this room was different. It didn't feel like the rest of the manor. He had no bad memories with this room.

"I can't believe you flew all the way here. What is that, half an hour? And you brought biscuits." He sighed and closed the door behind Harry, circling around to lead him to the table. "You act as if you're the one who did something wrong."

"Well, I did tease you about your books, which I shouldn't have. I did do something wrong, really, I started the whole thing and I let my anger keep egging me on."

"We both did." He sat down and took a deep breath. "We were both angry and neither of us let it go like we should have. I'm sorry. I really am."

"Draco, i-"

"Do not say it's okay. It isn't, and we both know this. I crossed a line. I said something that I, it ..... it still shocks me! I attacked you over something you can't help, I just ..... " He stared up at the ceiling and blinked away any tears that threatened to spill out. He’d stressed himself out just by talking about it. "We can't do this anymore."

Harry nearly paled. "What?" His stomach dropped and for a moment, he was terrified. The only way out of this marriage was Azkaban. He sincerely hoped Draco hadn't become that desperate.

"You look like you've been crying. Your face is red and your eyes are puffy. Merlin, did you cry on the way here? Did you sleep last night?"

"I-I woke up two hours after you left, I haven't really slept much since, and yes, I cried." He hurried through his answers, stumbling a bit on his words. "We can't do what, exactly?" He was very concerned with where Draco's train of thought had turned.

"We can't do _this_." He motioned between themselves. "Our entire dynamic. You've seen it! We dance around each other, borderline avoid each other, at best we make awkward small talk, and then we go into our own little worlds and pretend the other doesn't exist. We might not want to be, but we're married. We cannot keep acting like this if we ever want to get along."

Harry mulled over Draco's words and began eating a biscuit. He made a face and mumbled, "Not enough cinnamon."

While he thought, Draco reached over and took a biscuit for himself. He tasted it and thought it was fine, delicious even.

Harry swallowed and sat up a bit, feeling more engaged in conversation than he had ever been with Draco. "What exactly are you proposing?" He wanted to fully understand Draco's intentions before he gave his opinion or decided anything.

"We can't keep acting so careful. We need to talk more, maybe do things together. But we can no longer act so coy and hesitant. All we do is tolerate each other and nothing more. We won't get anywhere like this."

Harry nodded and gave his input. "I think that's a good idea. Really, we do need to try to get along instead of just playing nice." He looked Draco in his eyes, and for the first time, he really saw him. He didn't see some distant memory of Hogwarts or the war. He saw a young blonde man around his age, with blue eyes, and emotional baggage that needed to be sorted. He didn't see an ex-nemesis or old rival, he saw a man he had never met before but was curious to know. "We really aren't who we used to be. Maybe we ought to start acting like it."

Draco tilted his head, his silence prompting the other to elaborate.

"We aren't the same boys who taunted each other in school, or the young men who fought in a war. We can't treat each other as if we're still those people. You aren't my schoolyard rival and you were never an enemy. It's time we treated each other as two adults stuck in an unfortunate situation, rather than two people with a rough history. We have to move on."

Draco nodded and couldn't help but to ask, "So you're just going to forget about all the times I was an arse to you in school."

"After the war, it all feels so small. Not to say it wasn't important, but the war changed everything. Your bullying feels like it happened decades ago." He knew he was standing right on the line of their relationship, pushing it. He was pushing their boundaries and he knew that his next words could change everything. Harry looked up at the blonde and made his decision. "I forgive you. What you did doesn't hurt me anymore, it doesn't matter anymore, and I'm hardly worried it'll happen again. But you weren't the only one who was an arse. You'll have to do the same for me."

Harry was offering him forgiveness for everything he's ever done, for both of their sakes. He was doing it so they might be happy with their lives.

Draco gave a faint smile and nodded. He never considered asking for forgiveness for their past, but now that he had it, there was a shift between them. A tension that they were hardly aware of had lifted.

"Though, I would like to apologize for something in particular." Harry confessed. "In the bathroom, when I cast that spell, and ..... and I almost killed you." His voice was weak and he cleared his throat, trying to get his words out. "I didn't know what the spell would do, so it was incredibly stupid of me to have been messing around with unfamiliar magic. I only knew it was labeled as a spell meant for enemies. I was horrified when I saw all the blood ....." His voice trailed off and so did his mind. He stared at nothing in particular as he remembered coming upon Draco's body.

"I forgive you, Harry." He said it quickly, wanting to pull him out of his memories. "I survived and that's all that matters."

"I haven't used that spell since."

"I know. You aren't a violent man, Harry." He reached into his pocket and pulled out some small packets. "Here, I want you to have these. I know you like nature and cooking, so I got you some seeds. Since it's nearly winter I got the ones for the season. Apples and a few flowers."

Harry stared down at the little packs of seeds in his hands and a grin spread across his face. "Thank you, thank you so much." He genuinely appreciated the gift. He put them in his pocket and smiled up at Draco. "Now that we've forgiven each other, I suppose this is the beginning of the rest of our lives, then."

"I suppose it is."

They could feel how important the moment was. It really was the rest of their lives and they were both excited for it. They each had their own journeys they had to go through, Draco with his sexuality and Harry with his identity, but they were ready. They had to be.

Harry smiled and then let out a laugh. "Sorry, I'm just glad we're able to move on."

"I am too." He agreed as he picked up another biscuit, taking a bite. "I don't know what you're talking about when you say these need more cinnamon. I think they're lovely."

Harry gave an almost confused smile and he tilted his head, hardly aware of the way his cheeks went pink. "Thanks."

Draco smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to blush every time I complement your cooking? Of course, that won't deter me, but you act as if you don't know you have a talent."

"I know, I just ..... I'm not used to complements, is all." He half-mumbled his sentence as he looked away and took in the rest of the room, not wanting to meet Draco's eye. It was strange how suddenly casual they had become. The change between them was almost immediate.

"That will be changing very soon." He said as he took another bite. He was strangely confident, as if everything had just changed in his favor, as if he knew exactly what was going to happen. Maybe it was his hubris, or perhaps his new urge to get familiar with his own sexuality beyond sleeping with a few people.

It was then that Draco remembered Harry's likely heterosexuality. Before he could ask about it, the bedroom door swung open.

Harry jumped and Draco sat up straight, both surprised by the sudden entrance.

Narcissa had barged in and looked quite worried, her wand out and in her hand, but not held in a threatening manner. She looked them over and visibly relaxed. "Apologies. I heard Harry was here and in your room, I only wanted to make sure you two were okay." It was a very polite way of saying she was worried that Harry might be angry about what Draco said.

"It's fine, you have a right to be concerned." Harry reassured her and gave her a polite smile. He then motioned to the basket, "Biscuit?" He offered.

She ended up leaving with three as Harry insisted he made way too many sweets and she should take as much as she wanted.

After she left, Draco turned to Harry and got the question out before he could talk himself out of it. "Harry, I understand this marriage wasn't what either of us wanted, but I have to know, what exactly is your sexuality? I assume it's obvious that I'm gay given my choice of book, but I've only ever heard of you dating women."

Harry cracked a smile as he realized how concerned Draco was about the idea of ruining Harry's future plans. "Oh, I'm bisexual. Always have been. For the record, me and Cedric Diggory used to flirt a bit, but that's the only time I've ever had any relation with another man. Since then I've just been kissing girls."

Draco couldn't help but to raised an eyebrow. "All you've ever done is kissing?"

He nodded and didn't seem embarrassed about it in the slightest. "Given that I managed to almost die every year, and then one year I actually did, I haven't exactly had the time to fool around, but I'm comfortable with that." He lifted his chin and gave the other a wiry smile, "What about yourself?"

"I've slept with around six Hufflepuff boys, which was really most of their Quidditch team and a few others. I also started on the Ravenclaw team, but I only ever got two."

Harry busted out into a fit of giggles. "Oh Merlin, I can't believe this!" He also looked somewhat scandalized. "I never would have thought seduction as an option to rig games."

Draco scoffed, "I didn't rig them, but it certainly helped."

They ended up having a full and fun conversation, the only real conversation they’ve had since they were married. They took the Floo home and Draco was greeted by the sight of a small mountain of brownies waiting in the kitchen.

Harry was glad to have Draco back, and Draco was happy to finally be home.

Their lives were never going to be the same and they both knew it. Draco found a new home and Harry didn’t glitter with gold, they could never go back to who they used to be or how they used to view each other. But perhaps that was for the best.


	12. Chess

After a tedious vote on undoing a few of Voldemort-era laws, Harry couldn't wait to go home and change out of the annoying robes he had to wear. He was almost out the door, until a voice called out behind him, "Potter, might I have a word with you?"

He froze and for a moment a panic went through him. He briefly wondered if he was in trouble, but he then had to remind himself that he was an adult and being addressed in that manner doesn't always mean he's done something wrong.

He turned around and was faced with Epione Pawk, one of the newer members of Wizengamot. In truth, she was one of his only acquaintances because she was a lycanthrope, and most of the lycanthropes in Wizengamot made a point of introducing themselves to thank him for what he's done.

"Oh, hello Pawk." He said with a soft smile.

"Hi, I don't mean to bother you but there's something I wanted to chat with you about."

Harry nodded and let her take him to the side of the lobby, by the wall.

"I need some help with something, and I have a bit of advice. Rumor has it you're considering Austin Cheery as the lawyer to represent The Cupboard Project.”

"Uh, yea. He helped reform the Ministry shortly after Voldemort’s defeat. He's done great things.” Harry was a bit thrown off, but he went with it.

Epione nodded and gave a soft smile. "Right, don't pick him."

“Why not? His track record is impeccable.” He usually wouldn't listen to someone trying to tell him what to do, but he knew she was quite perceptive, so he decided to hear her out.

“Harry, he’s small-minded. He doesn’t see the big picture, only temporary success and gratification. Not to mention his hubris. He’s too arrogant, and that leads to mistakes.”

Now he was interested. “So, you’re suggesting I pick someone with a less-than-perfect record?” He shook his head and pulled himself back to the matter at hand, "Why are you even telling me this?"

“I'm helping you out because I want to see this department made. Go with him and it'll take years to work out all the loopholes that'll end up in the laws associated with the new department. You need to go with Greenwood.” She said as she pulled a cigarette out of her robes and lit it up.

“_Daniel_ Greenwood? The one who got Lucius Malfoy off?” He was so surprised he momentarily forgot the Ministry had an anti-smoking policy. But even if he had been thinking about it, he wasn't going to correct her.

“He sees the big picture. He took a calculated risk by cornering Malfoy and used the situation to his advantage in ensuring all guilty parties would be caught, even at the expense of one who easily can be monitored. He’s been stripped of his power and influence. He's harmless now.”

Harry could only stare and think to himself, _‘If you only knew.’_

“He also has no pride. You saw the public reaction to his choice. He’s received just enough flak to want to redeem himself while still having something to lose. If you play your cards right he’ll go out of his way to make your department perfect, but he won’t try anything risky. Safe and secure, that’s what you need.”

Harry was silent a moment as he came to realize that everything Epione said made perfect sense. The only thing that threw him off was how she said Harry would have to play his cards right to get Greenwood to work effectively. “Uhm, could you elaborate on the part about playing my cards right?”

“It’s simple, Potter. The world is just a series of actions and reactions. If you know what reactions you want, work backwards and figure out what actions you must take.”

Harry blinked a few times and came to realize what she was suggesting. “That’s manipulation.” He said it very plainly, as if he had no particular stance on the morality of manipulating others, and for a moment, he didn't. He suddenly began to realize how clever the girl really was.

“Precisely!” She beamed as she took a drag and the room suddenly smelt like a mix of tobaccos.

“Alright, you've helped me. Now what was it you needed to talk about?” Part of him admired how bold she was.

"I want to make a bill. I know my kind has all those laws against discrimination, but it's only us. Now that I'm finally on the inside, I see how the elite runs the show. They won't hire people over blood status, some openly hire men over women, I've even seen preferences in sexuality." She flicked her cigarette with her thumb and let the ashes fall as her voice lowered to a whisper, "I think that Yaxley fellow is a bit racist, too." She shook her head in disappointment and let her voice return to normal. "It isn't fair. There are issues that have been around for centuries, but they've become so normalized that nobody wants to address them! Even when they already have a job, they shouldn't be treated differently for who they are. I want to make a bill but I have no idea how to start."

A grin spread over Harry's face and he gave a nod. He loved her idea and wanted to help in any way he could. "Start with gaining a few supporters in Wizengamot, just three or four people to back you up. Next, you'll want to find a lawyer who will sponsor the bill. Once you've done that, get everyone together for a conversation on what you expect from the bill, then set up an appointment with Minister Shacklebolt and present it. If he likes it then he'll approve it to be introduced in Wizengamot, then the debates begin. But understand that the elite won't be happy about it. Expect opposition."

Epione grinned. "Oh, I'm prepared."

Harry couldn't leave the conversation on a claim like that. He was too interested. He asked what she meant, and was taken down a rabbit hole. She observed how the people of Wizengamot generally felt about changes, who was excited, hesitant, neutral. She paid attention to the elite and understood how they functioned and cooperated. She understood their beliefs and ideology. She understood them, because the moment she got the idea for the bill, she knew she'd have to beat them.

"They'll fight to keep their old way of life. Making it illegal to discriminate in the work environment is going to create a lot of tensions considering they do that on a regular basis in Wizengamot alone. So I've prepared myself."

Harry couldn't help but to grin. The Cupboard Project was nearly done, all he needed to do was present it to Wizengamot when it was ready and fix it up later for the final vote. But now, now he was in for a real fight. He couldn't resist it. He never liked war, but fighting for change and equality was a fight he couldn't thwart. "Count me in, Pawk. I fully support this."

Although he didn't consider himself a celebrity, he was very aware of the power his name had, especially written on a bill. There was a weight to it that he used to despise, but now, he was finally seeing how to use it to his advantage. "So, how exactly to you plan to take on the wizard elite?" It wasn't that he doubted her ability, but he needed to know what to expect. All his wars and battles had been physical, he had never been in a legal battle like this.

She grinned and delved into details. She's seen how they tried to stop and stall other bills, she knew their tactics and planned accordingly. "Look, Potter, I know you have the Cupboard Project, and the war just ended, you might not want to get into all this."

"Trust me, I really do."

She took another drag of her cigarette. "Alright then, how involved do you want to be?"

Something shifted behind Harry's eyes. A mischief and intellect that hadn't shown through in a long time. "As involved as you'll let me be."

"Seriously?" A grin spread across her face and she felt hope bubbling up in her stomach. She knew she'd win with Harry on her side.

"Seriously." Harry knew exactly what he was getting himself in to and it excited him. Maybe it was some misplaced sense of justice, an idea of getting one more blow on the people who supported a monster. Really, he didn't care where his passion came from. The bill was worth it and he had to see it through. He couldn't let the elite try to tear it apart, and they'll undoubtedly try the moment they hear about it.

The surprise in her eyes turned into a grin. "I once heard the Sorting Hat couldn't decide between Gryffindor or Slytherin because you're the perfect mix, and you only ended up in Gryffindor because of your preference. That's true, isn't it?"

He nodded. "And you're a Hufflepuff."

Harry spent the next hour with Epione. He didn’t like everything that he heard, but he didn’t change his mind. He knew what he wanted to do. He had to see this through, no matter what.

\- - - - -

Harry went back home with a lot on his mind. He took the Floo and found Draco sitting on the couch, reading a novel that Harry hadn’t seen before.

“What’s that one?” He asked softly, wanting something to take his mind off the day. He was tired and found himself threatening to space out, but he didn’t want to. He sat down and listened to Draco’s response.

“Oh, this one is so much better than I one I showed you before! This one is about an Auror who’s hunting down an international criminal, and requires the help of a young potions master. But as he solves the case he realizes the criminal is someone close to the potions master, so he has to stay close to him and eventually, they fall in love. It’s what they call a slow burn, because the relationship takes a long time.”

Harry gave a wiry smile and raised an eyebrow. “So which one are you in to?” He seriously doubted that Draco was reading it for the potions master, who he already assumed would be written as young and naïve. But an Auror seemed like the exact opposite of the pirate that Draco desired earlier.

“The Auror, obviously.”

“I thought you were into pirates?”

Draco frowned and set his book down. “Harry, it isn’t that simple. What kind of people are you in to?” He intended to use the answer as an example of how people aren’t so simple as to like only one specific type of person.

“Easy, I’m attracted to people who could kick my arse in Quidditch.”

Draco’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He closed his eyes and shook his head, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Cedric was Hufflepuff Captain, Ginny is one of the best Chasers out there, Cho was a damn good Seeker, and I ogled the hell out of Viktor Krum.” He explained it all as if it was so simple and made perfect sense.

Draco let out a laugh, “What the hell, Harry? Is that really it? You’ve never been attracted to anyone else?”

“Sirius was hot, if I’m honest. I kind of had a thing for Bill Weasley at one point.” Harry tilted his head. “I suppose my interest in Quidditch limited the people I actually got with. I just like attractive people, nice people, people who didn’t see me as some celebrity or Golden Boy. I liked people who treated me like a normal person.”

Draco gave a nod and tried to use it as an example. “See, you were interested in certain traits, like the way they treated you and kindness, but you weren’t attracted to a specific type of person. I’m not only attracted to pirates. I’m attracted to a sense of adventure, bravery, spontaneousness, people who aren’t such sticks in the mud like all the boys I grew up with.”

Harry glanced down at the book. “What other ones do you have?”

The blonde was momentarily taken aback. He didn’t think Harry would actually be interested in his books. Nobody was. They were his and only his. But now, Harry wanted to be a part of it. He gave a small smile and described his other three books. “Well, I have another about a guy, Akoni, who lives on an island. He rescues a merman from a fish trap, but the merman is injured so Akoni takes him back to his house and lets him live in his indoor pool. It’s so cool because the merman teaches him a new kind of magic, and they go on a little adventure to fight some dark wizards who are polluting the oceans, and they fall in love.”

Harry gave a nod, “So it’s a bunch of glistening abs, I get the appeal.”

Draco let out a laugh and shook his head. “Sure. Anyways, that one is called Call of The Sea, my fourth is Yuletide. It’s about two best friends who room together in Hogwarts. It’s their last year and they have huge crushes in each other, but one of them has to compete in the Triwizard Tournament, so the Yule Ball is going on, and they’re trying to work up the nerve to ask the other to the ball.”

“Oh, that actually sounds kind of cute.” Harry said with a soft smile. He'd never really been interested in romances, but the soft appeal of the plot drew him in.

“Well, it is, until you get to the ball. It ends with a really long and really heavy sex scene.”

“People write sex scenes in books?!” Harry asked with wide eyes.

Draco laughed at his surprise. “Yes, Harry. In fact, most of my books contain inappropriate scenes. Anyways, my fifth book is about a dragonologist and a healer who work at the same sanctuary. Yes, I’m into the dragonologist, and it’s mostly comprised of naughty scenes. Try not to act too scandalized. It’s called Dark Scales and Slitted Eyes.”

“I cannot believe you’ve brought this pornography into my household.”

Draco laughed once again and shook his head. “You’re like a nun, Harry. No wonder you’ve remained a virgin this long.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “The Captain’s Affair, Call of The Sea, Yuletide, Dark Scales and Slitted Eyes, and what is that one called?” He pointed to the book currently in Draco’s lap, the one about the Auror and potions master.

“The Perfect Love Potion.”

Harry cracked a smile and rolled his eyes. “They sound so corny. They’re probably excellent, but they seem really corny. Let me guess, the one you like is the adventurous one who’s a bit of a bad boy and he’s really cool but has a soft spot for his paramour. The paramour being more innocent and naïve, and he’s the one you identify with.”

Draco frowned. “Maybe.” He didn't realize how predictable the characters were until now.

“So you’re just waiting on a bad boy to come sweep you off your feet and take you on an adventure?”

The blonde rolled his eyes. He wanted to tell Harry that, in accordance with tradition, he expected to eventually fall for Harry, but he felt like that would be too forward. Instead, he said, “No. I’m not in to bad boys, I like adventure and spontaneousness.”

Harry nodded, “Right, right. My bad.” He thought a moment and silently decided to also look into gay romances for Draco. After all, there was no harm in expanding Draco's horizons to Muggle literature.

Harry had a lot on his mind between the books and his future plots in Wizengamot. In fact, he made plans to see Daniel Greenwood tomorrow.


	13. The Sweet Breath That Fills His Lungs

A thousand times he told himself he wouldn't do this, and a thousand times he knew he still would. He leaned against the wall and slowly sunk onto cool tiles. He sat in one of the only bathrooms the Ministry had and took deep breaths, trying to find air where there was none. His breath was ragged and desperate. He was drowning above water, looking towards the lights and feeling no warmth. He rubbed his face until his cheeks were red and he pulled his knees in; distressed and pained.

A hand reached up to scratch at his throat while he tilted his head back, keening for air but unable to fill his lungs. His heart pounded in his ears as a headache slowly crept forth. He dropped his head and stayed in a ball, preferring to hold himself over trying to take in air that wasn't there.

He had an appointment with Daniel Greenwood and was surprised by how passionate the man was. He started pulling out examples of laws about assault and spoke of developing penalties for lawbreakers so the elite of Wizengamot couldn't try to push for easier punishments. By the end, Harry was confident in his decision to choose Greenwood and couldn't wait to tell Hermione.

So why did he end up stumbling into an empty bathroom, upset?

Maybe it was because of what Greenwood did in letting Lucius off, maybe he blamed the man for his current situation. He told himself that it was fine, it wasn't Greenwood's fault, that he isn't upset anymore and Draco is his friend, he told himself that his new friendship was thanks to Greenwood, but nothing changed the way he felt.

His stomach twisted and his body shook, sadness sank into his bones and he felt his jaw ache. His face felt hot and shamed. His breaths shook, and for one sick moment, he felt like he could breathe again. It was like the sweet breath that filled his lungs before he spilled his guts. He held on to the air and took in his surroundings, his condition, his emotions. He called them each by name and they numbed before him, shrinking into a heavy weight in his stomach.

Harry found himself frozen. He couldn't will himself to move, he hardly blinked, he just stared into an empty corner and let all his thoughts and feelings drift away. A haze overcame him and he occasionally tried to move; tilting his head, turning his hand over, frowning, squinting, anything to try to concentrate on the room around him; but there was nothing. It was almost relaxing, part of him wanted to slip away for a while, but he couldn't let himself.. Not here, anyways.

He pulled himself off the floor and braced his body on the sink, staring at himself in the mirror. He hated everything that he saw, and it was so ugly, he laughed. He hid his face and carried his emotions to the nearest Floo. 

When Draco saw him with a red face and stormy eyes, he didn't know what to do or say. He was conflicted, but he wasn't afraid. Not this time.

Harry sat down and Draco brought him some of the chocolate he kept in the fridge.

Nothing was said that evening.

\- - - - -

Harry had a meeting with the finance team the next day and was told that the department was doable within the annual allowance given to all the departments by the Ministry. He was incredibly thankful and the news felt like a breath of fresh air compared to what happened the day before. However, it would need a bit of money to kickstart the beginning. It was a four thousand Galleon kickstart and Harry didn’t even blink twice.

“I can cover it myself.” He offered.

The finance team seemed surprised. He also noticed a hint of frustration, so he asked why they were so shocked. That’s when Harry was informed of their agitation in dealing with people who take up causes solely for the press and fold under financial pressure. When he asked what they meant, their frustration made them a little too eager to gossip.

They gave the example of Effie Crow, a name that Harry recognized as a serious player in the elite. In their tirade, they told Harry she once supported a group’s attempt at creating a reformed program at St. Mungo’s with better training and pay. She only did it to make herself look good, and when she was told about the remaining financial cost, she refused to pay for it or organize a fundraiser. When Harry asked what the cost was, he was floored to hear it was only three hundred and fifty Galleons.

Part of him was impressed that she used the financial department as a scapegoat, but it was also her greatest mistake. Never offend the wrong person, or they'll root for your downfall. Given how eager they were to gossip about her, Harry was almost positive that this bit of news wasn't such a secret within the Ministry, but if it ever got out, that would certainly be a shame for Crow.

He went home and wrote a letter to Gringotts about transferring the four thousand Galleons. He also wrote down the bit of information on Effie Crow, just in case she became a problem that needed to be taken care of. Of his opponents in his new political backing of Epione Pawk's bill, Crow was one of the only competent ones, and she had a lot of influence among the elite of society and Wizengamot. If push came to shove, he would do whatever it took to make her an ally. Part of him felt like this was wrong, like he should be doing better, but the bill was too important to him.

He also wasn't blind. He saw the way the elite tried to manipulate and bribe newer members into joining their side. He also saw the way they panicked at the changes in the political climate. All these newer people no longer tolerated bribery over morals. They couldn't be swayed and the elite didn't know what to do anymore. They were afraid because they knew they were losing. This would become an important battle to them and they'll be desperate for a win, which is why Harry can't afford to play nice, not this time. He had his morals and his rules, there were lines he wouldn't cross, but right now, he was prepared for a fight.

Harry ended up going outside for a while. He leaned against his house, basking in the sun and closing his eyes. He took in the warmth and listened to the birds. He took a deep breath and filled his lungs from the suffocating weekend he endured. It was warm and he could breathe. It was a lovely moment, until he remembered his seeds. He went inside and grabbed them along with a glass of water. He poked holes into the ground and put in the flower seeds, giving them each a bit of water. Right in the middle of his garden, he planted the apple tree. He was happy to plant his seeds. Part of him suspected it had to do with the fact that Draco had gotten him the seeds. He greatly appreciated the gesture and felt the satisfaction of forgiveness all over again.

He went back into his sitting room, thinking about the impending holidays. He glanced around the room and realized that he should find space for a Christmas tree. He took a rough estimate of the height of the room before realizing that he should probably get Draco’s input on the matter. After all, they shared the house and Harry owned no Christmas decorations whatsoever. He was starting from scratch.

After standing outside Draco’s door for a few awkward seconds, he gave a light knock.

“Yea?” A voice called from inside.

Harry closed his eyes and balled his fists as his mind went completely blank. He didn’t mean to still be anxious about starting up conversations with Draco, but this was just so domestic and couple-y. He was worried about making the other uncomfortable. “Well, I was thinking about getting a Christmas tree, and uhm, I was just, I was wondering what you thought about that?” He felt so stupid.

Draco smiled and headed towards the door, opening it. He saw how tense Harry was and tilted his head. “Do holidays normally make you so stressed?”

Harry quickly assessed himself and made his body relax. “Uh, no. Not really. I just, well, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable because holidays are really ..... domestic.”

The blonde wasn’t surprised by Harry’s hesitance to domesticity. He knew the other wasn’t as much of a traditionalist and didn’t see how normal a quasi-arranged marriage was to Draco’s class, even though their's was completely arranged.

“Well, whether we like it or not, we are married.” He pointed out, opening his door the rest of the way and leaving his room. He lead Harry into the kitchen as he spoke, “We might as well have this conversation now. I’m fairly certain that we don’t have the same holiday experiences.” They sat down at the table.

“What are you used to?” Harry asked, realizing that Draco probably had a much higher standard for a normal holiday.

“I’m used to lots of balls, being drunk nearly every night in December, and lots of food. But I don’t expect any of that this year. I’m used to a big Christmas tree with lots of decorations and a nice skirt, poinsettias, mistletoe, garland, holiday lights, playing Christmas music all day, gingerbread houses, Christmas biscuits, opening a single present on Christmas Eve, hot chocolate in the morning, and Christmas crackers.”

Harry blinked a few times. “I feel like I should have been taking notes.”

Draco cracked a smile and let out a chuckle. He’s come to notice that Harry has a very easy time making him laugh. That, along with the fact that Harry works and does the cooking and cleaning, has allowed Draco to adjust pretty comfortably. Then again, he’s started doing small things. He’ll wipe up the counters and clean up any dirt he sees. He doesn’t want to feel like a freeloader.

“Don’t worry about it. I can do without some of those things. I never really cared for poinsettias or garland and my father was the only one adamant about Christmas crackers.”

Harry nodded. “Right then. A Christmas tree, gingerbread house, biscuits, mistletoe, lights, and music. Perhaps we should start there.”

Draco took on a confused expression. “Wait, what about you? What are you used to?”

Harry froze a moment, trying to figure out how to let Draco down gently. “Uh, I’m not really used to anything.”

“You are, you’ve celebrated Christmas a certain way every year. I don’t mind if it’s radically different from what I’m used to. We can compromise.”

He knew it was easy to forget that he was abused, he also knew Draco really was trying to make this work, so he didn't take the forgetfulness personally. “I’m used to being locked up in my cupboard for most of the holiday season, besides to go to school or do housework. I wasn’t allowed to participate in the holidays.” He felt his throat tighten up and he looked away, glaring at the floor, silently demanding that his emotions back off. He was having a normal conversation and he didn’t want to ruin it. He used to not care for the holidays until he realized the way he was treated wasn’t normal. Now it hurt to talk about it.

Draco grimaced and felt the need to give Harry a hug, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to rush anything between himself and Harry. He knew that, in accordance with tradition, it would take a while for them to form any real relationship. But he wasn't very focused on forming a romantic relationship with Harry, he assumed it would happen on it's own.

“I’m so sorry.” Draco said as he watched Harry stare at the floor. “I wasn’t thinking when I asked that and I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

“It’s fine.” Harry said as he slowly turned back to look Draco in the eye. “It’s alright. Let’s just focus on what comes first. We need to get a tree and decorations.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but came to a small realization. "Oh, I suppose that would be a bit tricky, yea? The paparazzi would likely see us, they'll take pictures and have questions."

Draco nodded. "They will, and we can't control the stories they'll put out or the speculations people will make. It's a risk we have to take, if we want to." Although they had agreed to spend some time together, he knew it was much more difficult in practice.

"I remember in Hogwarts, I would do anything to avoid the paparazzi and their stories." He took a deep breath and came to the refreshing realization that he couldn't make himself give a single fuck about them anymore. "But now, I don't care. I'm not gonna let them stop me. What about yourself?"

Draco couldn't help a small smile from spreading across his face. "I doubt anything else can be done to my name." He was once berated as a Death Eater, then praised as a Blood Traitor. Now, it didn't matter to him. They were only labels and he decided he wasn't going to worry about what anyone thought. He nearly ruined his life trying to be who his father wanted, so he certainly didn't give a damn about what strangers thought. "I suppose we're doing this, then."

"I suppose we are."

Their little planning session ended in three hours of conversation about holiday possibilities. They talked through dinner and had a late meal of yesterday’s leftovers before finally going to bed in the middle of the night.

As he was laying down to go to sleep, Harry realized that he would finally consider he and Draco to be friends. It had been rough, but maybe that’s what they needed to turn around and get along.

Draco, on the other hand, was having a quiet celebration. He was finally getting the holidays together like he wanted, and he and Harry were getting closer. He was nearly too excited to sleep. Instead of sleeping he opened up a book, Yuletide, the one about the Hogwarts boys who fall in love. He figured a bit of holiday inspiration couldn’t hurt.

Of course, there were plenty of lame tropes and stereotypes that made him roll his eyes, but it was an otherwise excellent book. Then again, he’s read it five times now. He’s read most of his books multiple times. Although they were good, he was nervous about eventually getting tired of them.

Draco decided he would eventually go shopping to buy the rest of the gay romances from the bookshop that carried them. He was desperate for something new but he knew not to expect much. He was looking into a topic that was very niche to the society he grew up in, but new books were being worked on and one of his favorite authors was about to begin a new series of romances.

He struggled to sleep that night because he was too excited about the future.


	14. Mind The Erotica

Over breakfast the next day, Draco very giddily informed Harry that he was going to go shopping for some new books.

Harry smiled, happy for the other. “Just don’t bring any more pornography into this household.”

“It isn’t pornography.” Draco defended with a small laugh. “It’s called erotica.”

“Merlin.” He wheezed out the word and shook his head. “Apologizes, mind the erotica.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “I’ll do as I please, Harry.” With that, he cleaned his plate and went to get dressed.

Though Harry didn’t comment on it, he’s noticed the way Draco has slowly started doing more. He’s begun cleaning up little messes and washing his dishes after every meal. He thought it was nice. He really appreciated the effort that Draco put in.

After Draco left, he went to the garden to grab a copy of The Daily Prophet, which an owl had delivered only a few hours ago. He looked over the front page and paled.

It was about the new bill.

Harry rushed inside and looked it over, trying to find the source. He was honestly relieved when he saw the reporter credit her information to an "anonymous source" rather than Eponie Pawk. Had it come from Pawk, they would have a problem, considering it was not yet meant to be known. He preferred the idea of a Ministry leak because it only showed how afraid the elite was. He knew it was one of them because it was worded as a form of criticism. It questioned what other freedoms Wizengamot would try to take, gave wild speculations of a conspiracy to silence personal opinion, and glossed over the issues that the bill was actually trying to solve.

Harry also noticed a smaller article with a small picture of him, planting his flowers and apple tree, that commented on his apparent interest in gardening. He rolled his eyes but decided he needed to be a bit more careful since his address wasn't exactly a secret.

He thought over the members of Wizengamot who might try to sabotage the campaign. Only a few names came to mind, and Effie Crow was one of them. He didn't care if this really was or wasn't her doing, he needed to send a message. He decided he would leak the story about her failure in St. Mungo's to make sure the elite knew that they weren't backing down and they weren't going to shy away from a fight. He also planned to do an open interview on his support for the bill, as his name and the reveal of the bill's actual purpose would greatly sway public opinion.

He wrote a quick letter to Pawk, addressing the article and his plan of retaliation. She responded within the hour, admitting she took a risk in propositioning some of the older members for support on the bill, but she ultimately agreed with Harry's plan and thanked him for his support.

He knew he needed to find allies everywhere to play this game, even in the press. He figured it wouldn’t be too hard to find a newer reporter, one who’s a bit more desperate to get out big stories. His face brightened as he remembered a few members of Wizengamot were needed for a lawsuit between two wizards. From what he could recall, they were both somewhat well-known for reasons he didn’t remember. Small news like that would be given to reporters who feel their talents aren’t being taken seriously.

He scrambled to send out a letter, saying he would take part in the lawsuit case.

Draco, meanwhile, was very excitedly browsing a little shelf of books. He saw there were only four he didn’t own and was disappointed at the lack of variety. Still, he was thankful for what he had.

He saw the first was a historical romance about two cowboys, which he thought was really hot. Another was about two friends who work in the Ministry together. The third was about an Auror and a Ministry spy who he mistakenly thinks is the enemy, when really, they’re hunting down the same person. He got quite excited about the one. The fourth was very explicitly just a collection of erotica. As much as Draco wanted to hold on to his pride and leave the book be, he couldn’t help but to indulge. He attributed it to his desire to explore his sexuality, and, he could use a bit more late-night entertainment.

When he checked out, the woman didn’t even seem to pay attention to what it was she was ringing up. She only added the amounts on the tags and took Draco’s money, as he, of course, paid with exact change.

He left and quickly made his way back home to see Harry was chopping some fruit for lunch. He scurried into the kitchen and held up his bag of books with a grin. Never before has Draco had the urge to share his books with someone else, but here he was, excited to tell Harry all about a matter he once considered personal and secretive.

Harry raised an eyebrow and smiled. “What did you get?”

“Well, for starts, there were only four books that I didn’t own! There’s hardly anything about men these days!” He exclaimed as he set his bag on the counter and pulled the first book out. “I got one about two cowboys in America. One of them is from Brazil and he left to explore, and the other is a Sioux man who’s actually scouting for land to build a new school for wizardry. The thing is, they’re both wizards, but they don’t know the other is, and I’m so excited about it! I really hope they get married and open up a school together. It’s called Stallions.”

He pulled out the next as Harry finished cutting up the fruit. “This one is about two friends in the Ministry who uncover a scandal about the Minister for Magic, and they have to very carefully foil all her plots without giving away that it’s them and that they know she’s evil. It’s so cute, I think it’s suppose to be like a comedy. It’s called A Scandal in Bavaria, which is where the story takes place.”

Harry cracked a small smile at the quaint little plot. “It sounds cute.” He commented. He looked up and saw Draco’s smile had turned into a grin. “What?”

Draco shrugged, “Nothing.” Really, he was excited that Harry was expressing his interest in men. He also appreciated that someone approved of his reading material. Of course, he wasn’t looking for approval, but it was nice to have. “Would you like to read it?”

Harry didn’t know why, but he felt his face heat up a bit. He knew he had no reason to react like that and he wasn’t even sure if he was actually blushing, but he was a bit embarrassed. He chalked it up to his lack of experience with men, and the fact that he was still a horny teenager.

“Uhm, sure. Only if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all.” He assured, setting the book down by Harry.

“The third is a really good one. It’s about an Auror who mistakes a Ministry spy for an enemy, but really, they’re hunting down the same guy. It’s called Jamaican Summers, because it takes place in Jamaica. The author, I believe, is Jamaican as well.” He scanned the cover and then gave a nod. “Yes, I recognize the name. He also wrote the one I told you about with the islander and the merman.”

Harry nodded, “Call of the Sea, right?”

Draco blinked in surprise and nodded. “Yea.” He didn’t think Harry would actually remember. “Right, and the fourth is, uh. It’s erotica, honestly. It’s just a big collection of erotica. Judge me if you wish, but I’ve no shame.”

Harry snorted and covered his mouth at the noise. “Sorry.” He said as he began making himself a sandwich. “I’m not judging you. We’re nineteen. I don’t blame you for buying it. In fact, it would have been strange if you didn’t buy it.” He fixed his plate and then looked up at Draco, “Want a sandwich?”

“Sure.” The word was soft. He greatly appreciated that Harry didn’t judge his reading material, or his erotica. Harry made it seen so normal and okay, which no one had ever done before. He smiled to himself as he picked up his books, besides the one he left out for Harry. He took them to his room and realized that even if he and Harry didn’t fall in love, he knew they would at least be good friends. That was enough for Draco.

When he came back into the kitchen, there was a plate with a sandwich and fruit waiting for him. He sat down with Harry and they each cracked open a book, reading and eating in silence. They were both a bit aware of how intimate the moment was. They were sitting in a comfortable silence, sharing something that Draco loved without any of the judgement or worries that he had to deal with before.

Draco was fully immersed in his story. There was so much to love. The hot American nights, the horseback riding, racial tensions, magical tensions, their dissimilar interests, secondary intentions, resolutions, adventures, perfectly timed situations that forced them to get closer and closer. He was getting very invested in the story. They were finally noticing that all that horseback riding had given each other very defined thighs, he didn’t even realize he was biting his lip and imagining things in far too much detail until his hand hit an empty plate.

He was pulled from the imaginary world and forced to stare down at the plate that he now realized was empty. He glanced up at Harry before going back to his book, but did a quick double-take at what he saw.

Harry was holding the book up to his face, nearly halfway through. He was blushing, had on a shy smile, and kept looking away from the book.

Draco glanced at the time and realized they had been there for five hours. It was time to start on dinner. But first, he wanted to know what had Harry so squeamish. He never knew Harry to be like this. Then again, he had only ever known Harry in the context of war. Romance was very different.

“Are you alright?”

Harry looked up as if he had just been caught doing something naughty. He swallowed and nodded. “Yea, I’m fine.”

“You’re blushing.”

“Am I?” He knew his face felt warm but he didn’t think he was actually blushing.

“What are you reading about?” He was momentarily worried that the book had a more sensual scene in it that he didn’t know about. If it did, he would like to apologize, as he didn’t mean to make Harry read something that made him uncomfortable.

“Oh, uhm.” He tried to come up with an explanation, but eventually gave up and handed Draco the open book so he could see for himself.

Draco read over the page and he smiled at the topic. Cuddling. The two main characters were cuddling. It was very sweet and cute, but Harry was acting as if he had seen something scandalous. At the very least, it was something he wasn’t used to. That’s when Draco began to wonder about how serious Harry’s previous relationships had gotten. It also made him question how much affection Harry had received in general. Everyone needs affection and physical touch. For a moment, he even wondered if Harry might be touch-starved.

Part of him wanted to throw out a quip or make a joke, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to make Harry regret the bit of vulnerability he had shown, not after the way Harry normalized his books. Instead, he said, “I get it. It’s all mushy and soft.” He handed the book back and checked the time once again. “It’s almost past time for dinner. We’ve been sitting here for a while.”

With that the books were put away and they began making dinner. That night, Draco learned to make a risotto.


	15. Gemini Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a gender neutral character and the pronouns “they/them” are used.
> 
> I realized the first few instances look like improper grammar before it’s obvious it’s a reference to one specific person, so I just wanted to clarify.

After working to settle the lawsuit, Harry found himself outside for a short stroll. He was hounded by paparazzi and reporters who all wanted to know about his current life, his work in the Ministry, The Cupboard Project, if Ron and Hermione were going to finally wed, and about the lawsuit he just helped settle. For a majority of his time in the public eye, he hated paparazzi. But now, he couldn’t have been happier to see them.

Harry threw out a few answers as he went along. “I’m well, the Ministry is well, The Cupboard Project is well, Ron and Hermione are doing well, and the lawsuit went well.” With that, most of them were discouraged and went to hunt down others going in and out of the Ministry. Some still asked some questions; wanting details. He gave a few but didn’t mention that Daniel Greenwood is the lawyer responsible for the department. He didn’t want that released yet. He needed just a bit more time to get everything together before he was ready for that information to be out.

He traveled the path that he made for himself, following his plans of media warfare. Somehow, with each step, he doubted himself less and less. The Sorting Hat wasn't wrong to call him half-Slytherin. Maybe he ought to embrace it, rather than being the perfect Gryffindor that died with the war.

He continued his walk until he was alone. But even then, he was well versed in reporters and paparazzi, and knew he wasn’t really alone. He sat down on a bench, waited a few seconds, and watched a reporter approached him. Young and new, but determined.

“Hi, Mr. Potter. I really don’t mean to bother you, but I’m with The Daily Prophet and I was wondering if you could answer just a few questions on the lawsuit between Mrs. Gilstrap and Mr. Strode?”

Harry was silent a moment before looking up at the reporter. “Do you have a name?”

“Uh, A-Alex. Alex Wright.”

Harry gave a nod, “Go ahead.” He could tell that Alex didn’t actually expect to get this far, they were probably used to being turned down.

Harry gave the short interview. While he did this, his mind raced about other things. He was seriously considering that Alex might be the one he could use. They were young and he could tell that they weren’t very interested in the story they had to write. He understood that he’ll have to let go of all inhibitions if he wants to do this. He couldn't afford to doubt himself. It wasn't as if he needed some desperate puppet, willing to do anything he said. Really, he needed someone who would put their career ahead of their morals, much like Harry had done. He much preferred a partner to a puppet.

By the end of the interview, he made his decision.

“Alex, I’d like to ask you a few questions of my own.” Harry made himself sound confident, as if he’s done this a million times. Confidence, he’s learned, is very rarely questioned. “How long have you been working at The Daily Prophet?”

“Uh, a little over a year?” Alex sounded incredibly unsure about themself. Nobody was ever interested in them, only about getting the interview over with.

“I could tell you weren’t very invested in the interview you just gave.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “Oh, apologies Mr. Potter! I didn’t mean to offend.”

“You didn’t, don’t worry about it. But I can tell you’d rather be writing about a hundred other things than some lawsuit about two wizards who are only relevant to one niche audience.”

“Yea, I suppose I would. I’d rather ask you about The Cupboard Project, or about Ron and Hermione’s relationship.”

Harry smiled. “That’s what I’d rather talk about, if I’m honest. But you were given an assignment and you have to report on that.” He thought a moment before asking, “Have you ever written a story from a source you had to keep anonymous?”

“No.”

“Would you?”

Alex looked at Harry with wide eyes, full of interest and excitement. “Of course.” They knew exactly what this was. Harry had an agenda he needed pushed, and therefore, needed an ally in the media. Given that it was Harry Potter, they didn't have any doubts about whether or not the stories would conflict with their morals; they also knew it would boost their career to pump out important news.

“How would you keep this theoretical source a secret?”

“Well, I wouldn’t keep any record of who they are, and if anyone asked, I would say I can’t reveal my source because it would compromise my integrity as a reporter.”

Harry let out a chuckle. “You think that’d get people off your back?”

“I think it would show them I’m not worth the trouble.”

He nodded, liking that answer. “Well, after you finish writing about the lawsuit, I have a story I need in the papers.” He reached into his robes and pulled out a piece of parchment. On it, Harry had written the details of Effie Crow’s secret scandal with the St. Mungo’s reforms. “Do burn this; leave no evidence.”

Alex took the parchment and looked it over. Their lips parted in shock. “This ..... This is big! You want _me_ to write this?”

“Yes, and if I like it, I’ll give you more.”

“When should we meet, then?”

“You’ll find me on this bench again in four days. Have the news out by then.”

Alex stood up. “Yes, of course. Thank you, sir.”

Harry grimaced, “Don’t call me sir. Just Potter.”

Alex nodded, and with a handshake, they both parted ways.

Harry made his way back around the Ministry building and reentered. Hermione was nearing the end of her shift and afterwards, they were to meet to discuss the lawyer and economic meeting.

Surprisingly, Hermione loved that Harry chose Greenwood and she was overjoyed that he took the cost to get the department off the ground. Harry somehow didn’t expect Hermione to agree with his choice of lawyer, but perhaps she recognized Greenwood's ability to get difficult tasks done, as he did with the Death Eaters. Nevertheless, they were in agreement and Hermione appreciated what Harry had done.

She went to go tell Shacklebolt their choice of lawyer while Harry sent off a letter to Greenwood, giving him the official position.

Harry thought about going home afterwards, but instead, found himself in a Muggle store. Now that he was away from Wizengamot, he was a completely different person. There was no second agenda or hidden motives. It was important to him that he kept those two lives separate. No matter what he did in Wizengamot, he didn't want to bring those troubles and mindsets home with him. Now, he was just Harry, and Harry had a whim he intended on satisfying. He looked around before finding what he wanted in the shop. He bought it and lugged it back home. With a bit of magic, Harry now had a modern record player set up in the sitting room.

Just as he finished getting it ready, Draco appeared in the Floo. He'd spent the day in Paris with Blaise. Although he was no longer the man his father had wanted him to be, had separated himself from the elite, and was satisfied with his life with Harry; he still loved to indulge himself in the same sins that once owned him. Foods with names that were impossible for most to pronounce, designer robes, social gatherings with a more tolerable high class, ogling fine men, and it gave him the chance to practice his French.

He saw the device and raised an eyebrow. “What is that?”

“A record player.”

“What does it do?”

“It plays music that’s been recorded onto records.”

Draco nodded, but still didn’t understand.

Harry knew this and looked through the records he’d bought. He put on a Christmas album and watched Draco’s eyes light up as a slow and sultry rendition of _White Christmas_ came drifting through the house.

“It’s wonderful, Harry! Just in time for the first day of December.” He began looking through the records Harry bought and saw they were all Christmas themed. He blinked in surprise and looked over at the other. “You did this for me?” He couldn’t help the bubbling excitement in his stomach. He was a sucker for gifts and acts of service like this. Draco was very well versed in the love languages and wasn’t surprised when he realized his own. He was used to being a bit spoiled and was an absolute fool when it came from a nice-looking man.

“Of course. This is what you’re used to and I don’t mind it. I’d like for Christmas to feel familiar.”

Draco nodded and felt his smile start to fade. “Speaking of which, how are we going to spend Christmas? I know you want to go over to the Weasley’s.” He was still stuck on his fantasy of waking up Christmas morning and spending it with Harry since he couldn't see his mother or his friends until the afternoon.

Harry was a bit surprised Draco knew that about him, but agreed. “Well, do you have anywhere to go?”

“I was going to see Pansy and my mother for a while, I also planned on taking the Floo to the Zabini villa in France.”

“Perhaps we could spend Christmas morning together, go off on our own for lunch, and then we can have Christmas dinner together.” He knew Draco was very traditional, it was a trait of Slytherins. He knew that he would have to adjust and compromise, but give the circumstances, they both deserved a wonderful Christmas.

It sounded like a dream to Draco. Spending the morning with his future lover, in their pajamas with hot chocolate, and later they’d have a nice Christmas dinner together. “That sounds lovely.” Perhaps, if things went his way, they might be lovers by Christmas. He knew one month was a long-shot, but falling is easy. A person can get a crush on someone they've only just met, or someone they've known for years. It doesn't have to be love, not yet. Falling is so easy, especially when you want to fall. Knowing this, Draco wasn't sure what he wanted. Really, Harry was his only option, but he's grown fond of the lad. He did want to fall in love, he wanted their marriage to be real, but most of all, he wanted it to happen on it's own. He didn't want to manipulate it like he did with his other flings. He'd set them up, the people, the situations, the jokes, the flirting, he set it all up and watched the other fall into lust like a domino. There was no doubt he could do the same with love, but he didn't want to. He wanted to love Harry, and for Harry to love him, all on their own, if that is ever meant to happen. He wasn't afraid to only be friends with Harry for the rest of their lives. He's often heard that it's best to marry your best friend anyways. But he has to shag Harry, even if it's only once. He knew he'd never die happy if he didn't sleep with the man before him. He’s also always wanted to have Christmas sex, so he hoped everything lined up in his favor this month.

Harry gave a nod, “Oh, and, uhm, the Ministry is having this ball, thing, for the holidays.” He felt so unbelievably awkward. He meant to ask Draco about the ball weeks ago, but there was never a good time. The subject of Christmas made him remember it, but now he was painfully aware of how couple-y it sounds. “It’s December twentieth. I know you like balls, so, uh, would you like to accompany me?” It sounded far too much like a date for Harry’s liking. “Of course you don’t even have to be there with me, I’m sure you’d like to spend time with Pansy.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at the poorly-worded invitation. He cracked a smile and said, “Sure, I’d love to go.” He planned on roping Harry into just one dance, and maybe a shag. He really couldn't help himself since, due to their marital contract, Harry is the only person he can legally shag. Although he wasn't worried about Harry being upset if he shagged someone else, he was very aware of the fact that if the person he slept with ever threatened to make their fling public knowledge, his father likely wouldn't hesitate to prosecute him, and if not his father, Gringotts would have to as they hold the contract.

It was then that Draco realized there was something terribly wrong with him. He wasn’t even thinking of tradition anymore, he just wanted to mess around with Harry. Maybe it was the way Harry naturally spoke to his love languages by caring for him, the fact that Harry accepted his books, or maybe it was that Harry was a bit funnier and kinder than he remembered. Whatever it was, he knew he was starting to feel feelings that weren’t mutual and it was manifesting itself in a foolish lust. Of course, he wouldn't say he was even close to fancying Harry, but he knew the potential was there. He didn’t know what to do with himself anymore.

Harry wrote a letter to Molly, working out Christmas plans with her, actively trying to make time for Draco.

The blonde felt a sense of disbelief. The war really did make their past seem so small. He listened to some sultry holiday love song drift through the room as Harry sent the letter off, shooting the blonde a small smile. He somehow looked as shy and innocent as the eleven year old Draco had met in Diagon Alley, many years ago. There was a softness in his expression that gripped Draco's heart at the memory of when everything was so much better. But those green eyes hurt him the most, they had an aura that made it very clear they had seen far too much. He also had a bit of a stubble that made Draco squint his eyes.

Harry saw something in Draco's face, but he wasn't sure what it was. He spent a moment taking in the other's face as he tried to figure it out. Truthfully, he always thought the blonde's face to be a bit awkward. His jaw was a bit soft and gave him the profile of a half-moon, his nose ended a bit too far from his lips and the sharpness of it didn't fit quite right with softness of the rest of his face. He noticed how puffy Draco's lips were, how unnaturally round his eyes, and the way his eyebrows were darker than the hair on his head and had no shape other than being bushy lines. He tried not to stare too long and found himself looking away, trying to put his mind to something else.

“You haven’t shaved in weeks.” Draco commented.

Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s been only one week. My hair grows fast and I haven’t had the time.” He looked over at Draco with an unamused expression. “You really ought to be more careful with your quips, you make us sound like an old married couple.”

Draco frowned at the lame comparison. “That was cheap.”

“It was funny.”

“Perhaps to someone without a refined sense of humor.”

“Apologies, your highness.”

Draco let a small smile slip. “Better.”

Harry shook his head and stretched. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Spaghetti.” He answered as his eyes flickered to the bit of mid-rift exposed by Harry’s stretched form. He was already much more comfortable around Harry than he ever expected he would be with another man. He'd also lost his shame about the fact that Harry's a looker.

“You always want spaghetti.” Harry chuckled out his words.

“I do not.”

“You do. Ever since I taught you to make it, it’s become your favorite food.”

He couldn’t help but to argue. “I’ve always liked spaghetti.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “Come on, then. Let’s make it.”

They ended up taking their conversation into the kitchen; Harry pulled out vegetables while Draco started to peel and chop.

While they cooked, Harry brought up a new topic. “So, I remembered you said that there were only four books in that shop that you didn’t own. Seamus mentioned something like that once. He said he there hasn’t been anything new in nearly a year.”

Draco nodded and sighed. “It really is quite unfortunate. I wish there were more options, but I also don’t. The literature is already so full of stereotypical characters and situations, it gets a bit old. Sometimes it feels like I’m reading the same book over and over again. If there were more I’d probably grow bored of reading within a few months, and I really wouldn’t want that to happen.”

Harry nodded and furrowed his eyebrows. “Bit of a critical reader, yea?”

“Nor exactly. I know what I like and don’t like. I know what I’m tired of and what I’m getting bored of.”

It was then that Harry was struck with an absolutely insane idea, still, he couldn’t help but to voice it. “Have you ever considered writing you own book?”

Draco had to put down the knife so it didn’t accidentally slip from how much the question threw him off. “What?”

“Like you said, you know what you like and don’t like, what’s growing old, you’re aware of stereotypes and recycled plots. Maybe you should just write your own. Write the story you want to see.”

Now Draco was less shocked and more considerate. “Oh.” He said softly, thinking it might be a good idea. "I wouldn't even know where to begin. Few publishers would even take a book like that, and I don't know what I'd do if my name was attached to something like that." He was a more comfortable with his sexuality, but not THAT comfortable.

"You don't have to publish, you could write it just for fun. But if you did want to publish, you could go under a pseudonym." He suggested as he tossed the chopped vegetables into the saucepan.

Draco raised an eyebrow and chopped the last of the vegetables before going to find the spaghetti noodles. "I suppose. I'd have to think about it." Now that the idea was in his head, he couldn't let it go. It wasn't bad. Maybe he should try to write. Just a bit, anyways, for fun.

They had spaghetti and while they ate, Draco finally said the words that had been resting in his mind for weeks now. "You have no civilities."

Harry rolled his eyes from where he sat, hunched over his plate, shoving noodles into his mouth. "I can't say I've ever care for them." Although he was sloppy, he wasn't a slob and he certainly wasn't messy. He kept his face and the table clean.

Draco glanced around the table and grew a small smirk. "We ought to pick up some wine when we go shopping for a tree. Italian pairs wonderfully with a red wine."

It was a fair point considering they had spaghetti once a week.

"I don't mind, but perhaps you should pick it out. I don't know anything about wine."

Draco grew up around very manipulative and careful people. When telling Harry he lacks civilities, it was mutually understood that he wasn't actually insulting Harry. If anything, it was an ironic reference to their old bickering. But now, Harry was showing a vulnerability, a lack of knowledge, and Draco wouldn't dare make a joke about it. "I figured, I know you aren't much of a drinker. I'll make sure we get something good."

Harry nodded and they each cleaned their plates as they finished around the same time.

"Is the book I lent you any good?"

Harry's cheeks went pink and he cracked a nervous smile. "Oh, yes, it's good."

Draco tilted his head. "Right, anything else?" He prompted. The flush easily gave away that he was hiding something. Draco had never imagined Harry would be so coy, but then again, he's only ever known Harry in the context of war and rivalry. Everything was so different.

Harry fidgeted a moment before coming clean. "Well, it get's a bit inappropriate around chapter twelve."

"How inappropriate?" He asked as they both went into the sitting room to take their places on opposite sides of the couch. This is how their nights usually went. For the past week they've found themselves sitting on the couch together after dinner, conversing.

"Uh." He felt how his face heated up and shrugged, "It's just ..... it's a bit descriptive in one part, where ..... where Claus is ..... touching ..... Sebastian." He covered his face and felt absolutely stupid for the coy way he tried to describe what went on in the book.

Draco grinned and let out a small chuckle. "There was a descriptive handjob?" Now he was quite excited to read the book.

Harry silently nodded.

"It's alright, nothing to be embarrassed about. Did you read it or skip it?"

"I skipped it."

Draco gave a small smile. "I understand, I wasn't comfortable reading that sort of stuff at first, either. If you don't like things like that you can skip over it. It took me three months to get the guts to read erotic scenes, but you don't ever have to read them if you don't want to."

They spent the next two hours discussing the books they were reading and Draco's potential writing career. It was fun and ended with them describing all the bizarre books Draco would write.

"Then you could write a sequel about the farmer going from dating the big city lawyer, to going back to the country and dating a stable boy!"

Draco laughed, "Yes! That'll be perfect! Oh, it could be a trilogy and he could move on to the coast and date a fisherman."

Harry gasped as a grin took over his features, "He could fuck someone from every region! He'll have to be with a mountaineer next."

"Then what?" The blonde nearly snorted. "Someone from a desert?"

"Well now he has to. There you are, we've got your first five books ready. Series one, complete."

Draco shook his head and beamed. "You're absolutely insane."

"I'd like to think the only difference between insanity and genius is perspective." He said as he lifted his chin and brushed himself off, mocking an air of superiority.

"You do realize that insane people think they're sane? Therefore, your perspective is really just that of an insane person."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'll take insanity, at least then I'd never be bored."

They both fell to silence with smiles on their faces, but the silence wasn't comfortable, not completely. There was something about it that demanded more words. Something else needed to be said, but neither knew what. It was that atmosphere, along with their long and open conversation, that made them both feel a bit vulnerable. It was a feeling that had entered their lives since the moment Harry brought Draco home after their fight. They were trying to build something new now that their pasts were behind them, they were talking more and spending more time together, and somehow, in the last two weeks, things had changed. Neither was sure what exactly was different, but something new rested with them on the couch, sat with them at the table, and invaded their beds when they slept.

"How, uhm. How's the Cupboard Project?"

Harry looked up and for a moment, he wasn't sure what to say. "It's going pretty well. We haven't told anyone yet, but Greenwood is the lawyer sponsoring it."

"_Daniel_ Greenwood?" Draco was almost in disbelief.

"I know, that's what I thought at first. But, after what went down, he has something to prove and something to lose. I thought he'd be the best fit."

Draco tilted his head, a bit surprised and impressed. "Huh, that's actually pretty smart." Though he didn't show it, his mind began to wonder. He'd heard of the Sorting Hat's struggle to place Harry in either Gryffindor or Slytherin, but he didn't realize how true it was until now. Perhaps Harry did have something cunning about him. It made him wonder what else there was to Harry that he didn't know about.

"Like I said, I'm a genius."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh, certainly."

Harry cracked a smile and continued. "Right, but it's going well. I know we have around twenty votes secured, we just need about fifteen more to get it off the ground." The wizarding elite, which made up most of Harry's opposition, still held a small majority of Wizengamot. They were not okay with things that they once considered normal suddenly being made illegal. It sickened Harry to think that abuse had become so normalized, but he wasn't going to let that slide any longer.

"Logically, they'll have to come around. The people support this bill, as does the Minister, it wouldn't be wise for them to fight back, but given their defeat in the war, I can see why they're so desperate for some semblance of victory." Draco said as he took a deep breath, pondering over the department. "I know you have Pansy's vote."

"I assumed I did. She's never vocally opposed it, and she isn't insane like the rest of them."

"Yes, but they think they're geniuses." He remarked with a small smile, referencing their earlier topic.

Harry let out a breathy chuckle. "I suppose."

They fell silent once more and found themselves to be both elated and tired. It was late, but their conversation had gone so well, they almost didn't want to stop and go to bed. But they did. They retired to their rooms and found themselves thinking of the other. They were happy at how well their conversations had been going for the past few weeks. It was exciting to know that they were finally in a place where they could make their friendship work. But there still sat a nervousness in their bellies as tomorrow afternoon, they were to go out and shop for a Christmas tree, and apparently, some wine.


	16. Trimmed Trees, Decked Halls, and Fit Men

Sterling’s Seasonal Supplies.

It wasn’t a shop Harry had ever heard of, but Draco insisted it’s where they needed to go. According to him, it was the only place in Hogsmeade where they could get all their shopping done. He explained it as a shop that sold everything one would need for each season, and their Christmas stock was going on sale.

They made their way to the shop, which was only a fifteen minute walk, and saw it was pretty full. Harry was actually thankful that it was so full because people would be too focused on each other and their own shopping to notice that Harry and Draco had come together. Still, the crowd made him a bit nervous and he stuck a little closer to Draco than he normally stood.

They made their way over to the trees, pushing through the crowd.

It took Harry a moment to realize he was sweating and struggling to breathe. It was confusing for him, as crowds had never been a problem. He furrowed his eyebrows and frowned as he continued to make his way through, trying to figure out what the problem was. Maybe it was too loud? Too frantic? Maybe it was too similar to the hustle and bustle of the Great Hall during the war? He didn’t know what his problem was, but something was wrong. He spaced out a bit and his eyes slowly sunk to the floor as they made their way to the trees.

Draco looked around for a few seconds before he noticed Harry. “Are you alright?”

Harry nodded. “Yea. Yea, I’m good.” He said as he looked up, staring at the trees. “How are we meant to get one of these back home?”

“They’re charmed. When you purchase one it shrinks and you can stick it in your pocket.”

Harry looked around and saw the trees were organized by size. “So, what kind do you want? We couldn’t fit anything above two meters.” That comment dropped about a third of their options. They found themselves keeping around trees that were just around two meters since Draco was used to grandeur and wanted the biggest thing he could have. As they glanced around, they came to realize they didn’t actually know what they were doing. “Do you actually care which one we get?” He asked, realizing all the trees looked the same and there wasn’t really much difference.

“Not really, no. They all look the same. I just don’t want something very thin, but not too wide either.”

Harry agreed and they found themselves glancing around at three trees that sat at just on their preferred the height and width.

“Well, I don’t have a preference. We could settle on whatever’s cheapest, if you don’t mind?” Draco offered.

“Alright.”

Part of Harry was floored by how they were casually shopping for a Christmas tree together and no one had noticed. He was also shocked by how natural it felt to do something so domestic with Draco. The overwhelmed employee who sold them the tree didn’t even seem to notice who she was selling it to and mindlessly wished them a lovely day before moving on to the next customer.

Harry slipped the shrunken tree into his pocket, and they were about to leave, until his eyes caught the sight of the baubles on sale. “Come on, Draco, we might as well buy decorations for the tree.”

So they did. They stood around like a couple, trying to figure out how to decorate the tree. Harry wanted to buy anything shiny, but Draco had a color scheme in his head that he claimed Harry was ruining, “The sitting room has the feeling of a sunset, therefore, pastel colors would fit best, along with white decorations to mimic the feel of clouds. Stop picking up everything with glitter, glitter doesn’t fit the room’s theme!”

Harry let out a laugh. “Have a little fun, will you? It’s just little decorations. I like shiny things. Tell you what, I’ll only get three. Three shiny ornaments, and you can pick out the rest.” He offered.

Draco gave a smile and lifted up his chin, wanting to keep his playful air of superiority. He used to be very serious about wearing that aura, but now it had become a sort of joke between them. “Good. I ought to be the one doing the decorating, given that you’re blind.” He then let his eyes drift to Harry’s glasses. “You never got new ones, did you?”

“Nope.”

“And you don’t plan to, either?”

“Not at all.”

Draco rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You’ll make your sight worse if you don’t wear the correct glasses.” He warned.

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.” Harry shrugged.

Draco frowned but continued to shop with Harry. He couldn’t believe how nonchalant the other was about the possibility of going blind. Still, he knew Harry was more concerned with Christmas and The Cupboard Project to worry about himself. He can only handle so many things at a time.

They looked at few other decorations and Harry found himself a bit overwhelmed when he saw the wizard version of Christmas lights that were meant to be hung around a tree. It was little candles in glass bulbs, meant to rest on the branches. It looked very flammable and it was a nightmare Harry wasn’t willing to deal with. “We should really look into the Muggle alternative for Christmas lights. They’re a lot less dangerous.” Though he hadn’t really told Draco, his house had a bit of electricity.

The blonde only raised an eyebrow, “Are you certain they’ll look good?”

“If these lights are your standard, then yes. They’ll look excellent.”

“Do you mean to tell me these lights are ugly?”

“No, but they are. They look ridiculous.”

The blonde rolled his eyes. “Fine, we’ll look at Muggle lights.” Though he didn’t want to admit it, he didn’t think they looked very good either.

They picked out ornaments and a skirt for the tree before Draco lost himself in decorations. He picked out mistletoe, a poinsettia wreath, he got a silver vase and some roses for the kitchen table, a dark green dining cloth for the season and to complement the roses, he got pinecones and red berries to decorate around the vase. He also snagged a few candles, wrapping paper, ribbons, greenery for the fireplace, and snow globes.

Harry only watched with an amused smile as Draco rushed around, grabbing the things he needed while describing how beautiful everything was going to look. They went up to once more and left with three bags of decorations each. It was a very easy shopping trip, as everyone was too absorbed in their own holiday anxieties to notice Harry and Draco shopping together. Quite frankly, they were a bit difficult to miss. Draco was dressed in his winter robes along with that ridiculous winter hat that he's worn since Hogwarts. Harry, meanwhile, had on dark jeans and Sirius' old leather jacket. Harry stuck out and Draco's hat was quite noticeable.

But on their way out, there stood a reporter who had been taking pictures of the different stores selling holiday goods. He didn't notice them at first, but upon hearing the very familiar sound of Harry Potter's voice behind him, chatting along with someone, he turned to see Harry and Draco walking together. He was bewildered at the sight of the two holding holiday decorations and walking in the same direction. He snapped a few quick photos and left before they even knew he was there.

Upon returning, their bags were placed on the sofa and Draco immediately took charge of the decorating. "Alright, these two bags have everything for the tree, go ahead and place it so I can get the skirt around it." He said as he dug around for the deep red fabric.

Harry set the tree in the corner and reversed the shrinking charm. The tree grew to it's full size and Draco crouched to get the skirt in place. "Right, start handing me ornaments."

"Of course, your highness." Harry mumbled as he started pulling out different bells and baubles for the tree. Eventually, he handed Draco one bag while he kept the other and they decorated the tree together. Though Draco did make him move a few ornaments around, Harry didn't mind. He saw the blonde's passion for the holidays, and he didn't know much about decorating himself, so he was fine with letting Draco create his vision of the perfect holiday scenery.

Harry went to put away the wrapping paper and ribbons while Draco set up greenery and poinsettias on the mantle of the fireplace. When Harry returned, he put on another Christmas record and let the music flood the house.

He turned and smiled when he saw Draco decorating. "You do realize you look ridiculous in that hat." He commented.

Draco reached up to set a hand on his fur hat and his jaw dropped. "For starts, this is an original piece by Florence Fouquereau, the best fashion designer in wizarding Paris! Only one of three in existence. What do you know of fashion anyways, with your jeans and leather jacket?" He wasn't upset, only exasperated that Harry had the gall to say anything about high fashion. He finally turned to take in Harry's outfit and he found himself even more wound up over it. Harry hadn't shaved in two weeks and his hair was a bit longer and messier than normal, the dark jeans and leather jacket only added to his scruffy and unkempt look. Somehow, he made it look good.

"I think I look great."

Draco couldn't really disagree. Instead he rolled his eyes and fixed the greenery. "Well I think my hat is quite dashing."

Harry gave a warm grin. "I couldn't pull it off." He commented as he pulled the wreath out of the bag and went to hang it on the door. Just as he reentered the house, Pansy appeared in the Floo, making Draco jump and let out a yelp in surprise.

She held back a laugh and Draco let out a sigh, "Apologies, I forgot you were coming over. I meant to have the decorating done earlier, but _someone_ wouldn't get out of bed this morning."

Harry rolled his eyes. "This is the only day this week I haven't worked, I wasn't getting up early for anything."

Pansy raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. "Oh, no worries. I can help, if you don't mind."

Both boys gave little nods. Pansy began setting up snow globes while Harry put out the candles Draco got.

"If you don't mind, I could go ahead and get the lights for the tree." Harry offered, wanting an excuse to give Draco and Pansy a bit of time alone.

"That would be lovely. Oh, and get some wine too, we forgot. Just grab a Zinfandel." As far as pasta went, one couldn't go wrong with a Zinfandel. So with that, Harry was off.

Pansy set down the last snow globe and looked at Draco as if she knew exactly what he was up to. "Seriously?"

Draco stopped fidgeting with the greenery and gave Pansy a desperate look. "How obvious am I?"

"There's no denying you think he's a looker." She shook her head with an amused expression. "I know you said you two have been getting close. Long conversations everyday after dinner, yea?"

"Yes, for two weeks now. We'll sit out here for hours and talk. We haven't spoken too much about our pasts, but we know each other's stories. I know more about him than most people do. Hell, I'd put myself on par with Ron Weasley and he was _there_ for most of it."

She let out a chuckle and let her eyes wander over to the door, as if she could still see Harry's figure standing there. "He looks much better without the robes he had to wear at Hogwarts and in Wizengamot. Finally has something that fits him proper."

Draco playfully swatted at her with the flowers in his hand. "That's my husband."

Pansy laughed and shrugged. "Legally, yes. Don't get all territorial just because his jeans fit him well."

"This isn't about his jeans, Pansy." He said as he set the roses in the silver vase he bought and carried it into the kitchen along with the table cloth. "Did you see his jacket?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I never knew you to be a fan of leather."

"I wasn't, but it looks good on him. He hasn't shaved in a while either, I might accidentally throw his razor away. So long as he keeps it trimmed like it is, I wouldn't mind living with it." His facial hair had developed as a dark and healthy stubble. It looked fantastic on him.

Pansy smirked and brought the pinecones and berries into the kitchen while Draco fixed the cloth. "So you fancy him?"

"Oh no! Merlin, no! I don't fancy him, I've just ..... I've realized that he isn't as ugly as I once thought." Truthfully, Harry didn't have an ugly bone in his body. Everything about him was attractive, regardless of personal tastes. Draco, however, was aware of his own awkward face and height. He knew he was an acquired taste and often compared himself to fine wine. Unfortunately, it seemed the only people with a true taste for his looks were girls only after his money. Never fine men.

Even Harry's scar was becoming something to marvel at. It was once red and irritated, but since the war, it's tapered out into white, raised skin that looked more akin to real lightening. It was actually a bit intimidating.

"Ah, so it's purely physical."

"Well, his personality isn't intolerable either." He said as he finished setting up the kitchen table, arranging the pinecones and berries around the silver vase of roses. "As I said, we talk for hours every night. I've learned a lot about him. He also makes me laugh, and he isn't afraid to tease me." Most men he spent time with were too intimidated by his name to treat him as anything less than superior.

Pansy's playfulness faded and she approached Draco, getting in his face and forcing him to look at her. "Draco, you know what's happening, don't you?"

Draco frowned and nodded. "Yes. I'm aware." It was a truth he didn't want to face, but reality had made it well known.

He didn't like Harry as anything more than a friend, a very attractive friend. But still, they both knew that if he continued on this path, if he continued to get closer and closer to Harry, he would fall. He would end up fancying the lad, and no one could predict if those feelings would be returned.

"I know what might happen, Pansy, but I don't care. If it happens, I'll eventually move on. But for now, getting to know him is worth any feelings that might come about. I'll be fine. You know this."

Pansy nodded and backed off. "Alright. I just don't want to see you getting hurt."

"You've seen it before."

There was a moment of silence before the door opened again. "I got the lights and wine." Harry's voice rang through the house and Pansy and Draco went out to greet him.

"Good. We can't put on the topper without the lights." He said as he grabbed the wine and put it in the fridge.

Pansy watched them start to wrap a string of little pieces of glass around the tree. It confused her greatly until Harry attached the string to the wall and flipped a tiny switch. Suddenly, the tree was lit up in a heavenly glow. Her eyes widened and she stepped towards Harry. "Where did you get those gorgeous lights?!"

Harry gave a soft smile. "They're muggle lights. They require electricity to work."

"Electricity." Pansy mumbled the word, realizing it sounded familiar. "I remember Granger wrote a paper on electricity in muggle studies, I'll have to ask her about that."

She and Draco said their goodbyes before she took the Floo home.

Draco stood back and admired the tree before reaching into the last bag and pulling out the topper, a star. "Be a dear and put that on the tree." He handed it to Harry with a grin.

Harry raised an eyebrow and reached up to set it on the tree, only to come to the harrowing realization that he couldn't reach it. "I can't." He said as if he were genuinely surprised.

Draco couldn't help but to let out a chuckle as he took the star and set it on the tree. He looked Harry up and down before smirking, "Apologies, I forgot you were a bit short." Though he didn't realize Harry would be too short to reach the top, he also couldn't resist the chance to show off his superior height now that it had presented itself to him.

"I am not! I'm one hundred sixty-five centimeters tall, exactly! It's perfectly average." He defended.

"Yes, Harry, average for a woman. I've got ten on you." He bragged as he pulled the final item out of their bag of decorations: mistletoe.

Harry crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "And why exactly are we hanging mistletoe?"

"Because it's Christmas, be festive." He said as he placed it over the Floo with a smirk. "This ought to be fun. I would hang it somewhere else, but I fear you'd be too short to see it and may fall with someone unfortunate."

Harry frowned and let out a huff. "Whatever, I might not be tall but I'm easily stronger than you."

"Must you be so desperate to prove yourself?" Draco teased, "Though that is true. And you're a better cook, but I am the better decorator and the best dressed."

Now that Harry was focused on Draco's height, he noticed a few other things. He saw how Draco was a bit lanky due to how thin he was, though his shoulders were impressively broad. He almost looked as if he was wearing shoulder-pads to widen himself, but Harry had done the laundry enough times to know Draco didn't own any.

Harry, on the other hand, was shorter and his body was covered in a nice padding of muscle. He didn't have anything very defined, instead, the muscles of his body rolled and curved in ways that were absolutely tantalizing when shirtless. He had a soft strength and endless flesh, vastly different from the sharp and thin beauty of the other man. Although Draco had yet to see Harry's bare upper-half, he knew what to expect given the little peaks he's gotten when Harry stretches or wears white.

They looked around the sitting room as the final lines of some Christmas song drifted through the house. Everything felt cozier and warmer. They shared a smile and their decorating was finally finished.


	17. No Better Time For A Mid-Life Crisis

_'Effie Crow and The Secret Scandal'_

Harry stared down at the copy of The Daily Prophet in his hands after Hermione entered through the Floo and handed it to him. He read over it and hid his smirk, it was everything he hoped it would be.

"Crow screwed over St. Mungo's?" He questioned as he peered down at the text, acting as if he had never read it before. "Hm, only three hundred Galleons? Rubbish." He muttered as he looked up at Hermione. "Is this what you wanted to talk about?"

Harry received a letter an hour earlier from Hermione, telling him she needed to speak with him, so they set up a time for her to come over.

"Yes. I can't believe it's come to this!"

"Can't believe what has come to what?"

"Harry, this is obviously about the bill that Pawk woman is trying to pass. They slandered it and now she's retaliating." She shook her head. "No, no it wasn't her at all. She isn't deep enough on the inside to have found out about this. Someone else did it for her. Nevertheless, this could prove to be trouble. The last person to use the media to push an agenda was Voldemort. This could encourage some to use the media as a form of attack. Someone could go after The Cupboard Project."

Harry understood her concern, as Hermione didn't sign up for media warfare.

"I know, but we ought to be fine. Any insult to our department would be a stretch to make, and the people love it. It wouldn't be wise to oppose it. Just because some kid got an anonymous source about an old scandal doesn't mean anything."

Hermione tilted her head at that and thought a moment. She took the paper back and searched it. "Some kid, who was it anyways?" She mumbled.

"Wright, Alex Wright."

"Aha!" Hermione shouted, her index finger outstretched to Harry. "It was you!"

"What?! How does this prove anything?! I saw the article, of course I saw who wrote it."

"No, no you didn't." She said as she sat beside him on the sofa. "You never pay attention to the names of reporters and I know you don't because I always tell you to pay attention so you''ll know who to avoid, but you never do."

Harry relented. He already didn't like the idea of lying to Hermione, so he came clean. "Yes, it was me. The financial department told me about it during our meeting, and after the article on the bill came out, I decided to make an example out of Crow."

"You wanted to make an example?! Harry, what happened to you?"

Harry only looked confused. "Nothing. Even if something did, it wouldn't make a difference. All actions are choices. I chose this."

It was then that Hermione remembered Harry was half-Slytherin. "This is important to you, isn't it?" She had no intention of stopping him. She knew that she couldn't even if she wanted to.

"Obviously."

"Then let me help you." She offered. "I've seen how everything works. The Ministry is centered around the Minister, and I'm his intern. I'm positioned in the dead center of the entire government, even the Minister himself revolves around me. I see how all the parts and pieces work. I can help you."

Harry let a the corners of his mouth raise into a smile. "I'd never make it anywhere without you." He turned to face her and felt himself getting a bit excited. He always loved when Hermione had an idea. "What are you thinking?"

"You need to start by weakening your opposition. Out of all the people against this bill, who's the weak link?"

Harry only needed a moment of thought to come up with a name, "Louis Luther, easy." The man in question was hardly competent and in his mid-eighties.

"Then make him the leader of your opposition. With a weak leader, they'll eventually succumb to restlessness and their organization will collapse. In their disorganization, it'll be easier to sway the unsure members to your side" She sighed. "But how?"

Harry's jaw dropped and he stared at her a moment, suddenly reminded that she is, without a doubt, one of brightest people this world has ever seen. While he marveled at her, he was hit with his own idea. "I can use my anonymity to leak a story saying he's the man to beat, he's the one to watch out for. I'll let my opponents fall victim to rumor and watch what is written come to fruition." He tilted his head and beamed at Hermione, "I think you ought to sent Pawk a letter. I feel you two would get along very well. I'd also like to recommend that you and Pawk befriend Crow. With her soiled reputation, you two could offer her a friendship and sway her to our side. It would benefit Pawk's cause, and it wouldn't hurt to have an influential friend when you eventually run for Minister."

They reveled in their scheme and five minutes later, two letters were sent off to Pawk. Harry's addressed a plan to rally their enemies behind Luther, and the other was Hermione's offer of befriending Crow together and working to further Pawk's bill.

Hermione left and they both felt better about their legal plots.

Harry gave The Daily Prophet another glance and was about to toss it out, until he saw the side article that graced the cover, _'Potter and Malfoy Caught In Public'_. His heart dropped and he grabbed the paper, giving the article his full attention. He quickly turned the page over to see the rest of it. There was no way for anyone to have interpreted their outing as marriage, or even a date. But the paper used the word "caught" and that worried him. What could they have been doing that would warrant a word that implies they were hiding something.

_'Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were seen leaving Sterling’s Seasonal Supplies together; talking, laughing, and headed in the same direction.'_

The article went on to speculate that they had arrived together and were likely headed to the same place. Thankfully, it only went as far as to speculate that the two had become friends and it even went on to praise Draco for turning around completely in his behaviors. It was common knowledge that Draco had intentionally messed up a lot of things as a Death Eater, because he didn't actually want to hurt people. He was a saboteur and the media seemed to praise that at every turn. Now, they had yet another reason to like him. Now he was friends with the hero of the wizarding world and the article praised Draco for being a good guy.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He went out with Draco that day, fully aware that they might be seen and made a public spectacle, but somehow, now that it's happened, he was surprised. The paper didn't even try to imply a relationship, likely due to their past, and he was grateful for this. He decided that this was the best possible outcome of their outing together and let it go.

Harry sighed and found himself in an awkward position. He didn't have any work to do and Draco wasn't around for him to talk to. The blonde was off in Paris with Blaise and Pansy for the afternoon. He got up and decided to do a bit of cleaning, but found that thanks to Draco's assistance, there wasn't any cleaning to be done. There also wasn't much he could do with his small garden, as it had already rained a bit and it was soon to turn to snow. He looked around and realized that with his old aliases dead and the war over, he had a lot of free time that he filled with work and friendships. But without all that, he didn't know what he was meant to do with himself anymore. There was nothing that was his, sacred to only him. He had no hobbies.

Hermione, Seamus, and Draco read books. Luna painted, Neville experimented with Herbology and potions, Dean freelanced sports articles for a few newspapers and magazines, and Ron had started working out for his new position as a future Auror. Everyone had hobbies and lives, but Harry was finally relaxed enough to realize he had nothing of his own.

He'd tried to pick up hobbies before, but they never lasted. He'd learned origami and it took him two weeks to realize he didn't have the patience to stick to it. Dancing was fun but it gets boring on his own. He knew how to sew, but he didn't exactly enjoy it.

He sighed and went into his room, looking for something to occupy himself with. He looked around and frowned when his eyes landed on his closet. It held the few clothes he had, and still, they were mostly Dudley's hand-me-downs. The shirt he was wearing at the moment he's had for five years. He realized he didn't like most of his clothes, so he got a bag and began tossing them out. It was one of the most impulsive decisions he has ever made, but he went with it. He rid himself of anything that once belonged to Dudley or that he just didn't like to wear anymore. That ended up being almost all of his clothes, as he decided to expand beyond just his shirts. He took the bag and headed out. He decided he might as well donate the clothes.

After his donation, he found himself outside of a store in muggle Glasgow. It sold more modern casual clothes, the things Harry had always wanted to wear but was never able to. He stepped inside and began to looked around. He very quickly found himself holding a few pairs of dark jeans, made to fit the wearer very well. He knew these clothes weren't something his aunt or wizarding society would ever approve of, but he looked great in them. He got a few t-shirts and button-ups that made him feel confident. For the first time, he was wearing shirts and pants that weren't baggy. Even when picking out his robes and Hogwarts uniform, he never knew what his correct sizes were and was too nervous to try things on over and over, trying to find what fit best. He didn't want to take too long and annoy Hagrid. This was something he now felt a bit silly for worrying about but it also made him sick to his stomach to know he was once that damaged.

He was essentially buying a brand new wardrobe centered around making himself look and feel phenomenal, while also trying to match Sirius' black jacket; his favorite article of clothing. He also went ahead and got himself a suit for the ball, even though all the other men would be wearing fancy robes. He knew he would stick out, but he didn't care. When he tried it on, he thought he looked fantastic, so he bought it.

With four bags of clothes and a grin, Harry made it back home and began setting up his new wardrobe. He got so excited he decided to change into a pair of black jeans, new shoes, and a button-up that he tucked in the front. He checked himself out in the mirror a moment and felt good until he got to his face. He tilted his head and grabbed a pair of scissors and a comb, deciding to undergo the tedious process of trimming his beard. He kept it just long enough to look mature. He liked the appearance of dark and heavy stubble on his face, not planning on growing it out. He put the scissors away and messed with the hair on his head. It was just as wild as ever, but with it's newfound length, it was curlier than before. They weren't perfect curls, more like soft waves and twists. He raised an eyebrow and found that he really liked it.

He took off his glasses and frowned when his reflection got even blurrier than before. He put them back on and decided his glasses were here to stay.

"Am I having an identity crisis?" He looked over at his closet and let out a laugh as he realized what a drastic change he's made just on a whim. He shook his head and decided he might as well give this new outfit a try. He slipped on Sirius' jacket and took the Floo to Diagon Alley. He found himself being looked at, but not the kind of looks he was used to. People didn't look disgusted by his outfit or starstruck because he's Harry Potter. Instead, he found both men and women looking him up and down. People were attracted to him, and that only boosted his confidence.

He smiled and ignored the few paparazzi who took his picture and threw out questions as he went along. He went into a bookshop and looked around a moment, already knowing what he needed to do. He ended up returning home with a self-help book and a book on meditation. If he was going to have an identity crisis he might as well take control of it before he does something even more drastic than throwing out 95% of his clothes, his socks and underwear being the only things that ever fit.

A soft noise rang through the house after he finished the first quarter of the self-help book, indicating the Floo had been used. Harry came out feeling confident in his looks, and greeted Draco with a smile. "Afternoon, did you have fun in Paris?"

Draco looked over at Harry and it took all of his will not to let his jaw drop. "What the hell are you wearing?!"

Harry let out a laugh and shrugged, "Clothes?"

"New clothes, apparently. Do they fit you well enough?"

Harry let out another laugh. "I suppose. Most of my clothes were too big, anyways. I donated almost everything and started over."

"Why would you do that?"

"Most of my clothes used to belong to my cousin. They don't really suit me or my style. This is what I like."

Draco tilted his head and finally stepped out of the Floo. "Well, if it's what you like then I'm happy for you." He commented before glancing at the kitchen. "How about spaghetti tonight? We could finally open that bottle of Zinfandel?" He offered.

Harry smiled, "Spaghetti sounds amazing." He said as he went into the kitchen.

They spent the night cooking, eating, and talking. The wine made conversation flow even easier. Ten minutes into it and Harry was confessing a few details of his childhood that he had never really spoken about, and Draco found himself doing the same. Four glasses in and they were like open books. They sat there until some ridiculous hour of the night and let out things they never thought they would confess to another person.

By morning, they couldn't find the resolve to regret their openness, and instead, silently embraced that they were a bit closer than before. That night, they had a very similar conversation, but no wine was necessary.


	18. Diamond Mind

Harry gave his interview with Alex Wright, giving his stance on Pawk's bill and clearing up any misconceptions surrounding it. "Quite frankly, I find it appalling that someone mistook civil rights for oppression." They both knew it would sway many people to have his name attached to the bill.

When the interview was finished, they sat about and spoke awhile on the bench behind the Ministry.

"So, I saw the article about you and Malfoy shopping together. I promise I won't say anything, my journalism is focused on politics, but, what's up with that? If you don't mind talking about it." Alex prompted while fiddling with their quill and parchment, still nervous around Harry.

Harry tilted his head and took a deep breath. He realized he had no way of explaining it without exposing what was really going on. He decided to tell the truth, but left out major details. "We decided to buy holiday decorations and happen to live in the same direction." Alex only raised an eyebrow and that made Harry chuckle, “Tell you what, if I ever decide to fully reveal my current life, I'll give you the story. You're the only one I would trust to write it, anyways."

They smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Potter. Oh, and uh, you might want to get yourself a copy of Witches Weekly ..... they uhm ..... they just published something about you."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "Oh? I'll have to check it out."

Alex seemed to wrestle with a thought. Something they felt they didn't have the authority or closeness to say. They wanted to get their question out, but it was impossible when their career relied on Harry.

"What is it?"

"Huh?" They blinked in surprise.

"You obviously want to say something. Out with it."

"Well, I was wondering if you were okay? I know that Draco is a good person, I'm not worried about that. But you're obviously hiding something. Something, that I assume, is either bad or ..... strange. I just want to make sure you're okay."

Harry smiled at this and looked over at Alex with an expression softer than any he had ever worn outside of his own home. "I'm alright, Alex. Thank you. It's a bit of both but we're okay." He couldn't help but to be surprised by how much Alex seemed to genuinely care. It was a bit endearing. He then came to the disappointing revelation that if he wasn't married, he'd probably pursue Alex.

They saw the conflict and defeat on Harry's face and grew a playful smirk. "I like you, Potter. You're good. You're really a good and pure person. I'm so happy that you're taking over Wizengamot instead of those old arseholes that I'm always stuck having to talk to. I like you so much better. But that face, I've seen it before. Those arseholes wear it often." They were silent a moment, weighing something heavy in their mind, before finally confessing. "If you were one of them, I would sleep with you for a story. I've done it before and really have no qualms about it. I'd get an orgasm and a story, it really is a double-win for me. But I like you, you're honest, so I'm being as transparent as possible. Go home to Malfoy."

Harry's face went dark red and he sat up in shock. "W-We ar- Malfoy and I, we. After the whole thing with the inheritance, uh, his father hates us. We aren't in a relationship." He very quickly wanted to clear up the idea that he and Draco were romantically involved, and even more, that Harry would cheat.

Alex let out a chuckle and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, apologies. I should have taken your word that it's complicated. Well, forgive me if I was a bit forward. But do heed my warning, don't get involved with me in that manner."

He only nodded, staring at the ground. He was still flushed by such a confession and accusation. "Uhm, d-do you still, sleep with people for stories?"

"Not since you started feeding them to me, no. But don't get me wrong, I don't dislike doing it. I'm happy to mix work and play, and you are quite dashing." They couldn't help but to tease a bit, after all, Harry was cute and genuinely cared for them.

Harry put on a shocked expression. He wasn't entirely sure if he was being hit on or not.

They let out a laugh and tilted their head at the reaction Harry gave. "You act like you've never been hit on before."

"I haven't been. Not in that manner, anyways."

They furrowed their eyebrows in disbelief. "Are you ..... are you a virgin"

Harry nodded and looked away. "In all fairness, I almost died every year since I turned eleven, I stood in Atlas' place, and only seven months ago I really did die. My summer was full of testimonies and reliving the war over and over, and the only relationships I've ever had didn't work out because death and destruction were the snakes that bit my heels." Perhaps Harry didn't really need an ally in the media as much as he needed a friend.

Alex very quickly lost their allure and turned to sympathy. "Oh." They didn't quite know what to say. They knew Harry's story, everyone did, but it was hard to really imagine how a life like that can hurt a person. "Maybe touch is what you need. Even if it isn't with another person, you don't seem like the type to put on your best pants just to undress yourself."

Harry's face went red and he looked away. "How did we go from discussing Malfoy and I to my bloody masturbation habits?"

"Oh." They cringed, "That says it all."

He shook his head. "Whatever. I do need to go home because I need to make dinner, but I want to leave you with this." He pulled out a piece of parchment and handed it to Alex. "I need a story about how Louis Luther is the man to back in the fights against Pawk's bill. Say the opposition is falling behind him to lead, then, watch your words come to fruition."

Alex blinked a few times and grew a wicked grin. "My, Potter, you naughty boy. So much more clever than those arseholes in Wizengamot." They gave Harry a once over before standing to leave. "Disregard my earlier statements and remember my door is always open." They offered before taking their leave.

Harry was left on the bench; shocked and confused. Most of all he was bit saddened. Sex, after all, is such a cheap ploy. He truly believed Alex was just a bit more clever than that. But it was then that he realized the true genius of Alex's strategy. They really didn't mind trading sex for a story, rather, they made sure they enjoyed themselves and it made their job a bit easier. Harry was sure he might have enjoyed Alex's company under different circumstances. Part of his heart ached because of all the wonderful people he may never get to be with as he was wrapped up in this situation so early in life. But another part of him was warmed. "Go home to Malfoy." Something about it appealed to him. Perhaps there are people he'd never get to be with that he might have enjoyed, but he held no longing for a different life. Maybe it was their long conversations, maybe it was the nearly three weeks of late nights in the sitting room, maybe it was the raw vulnerability of decorating their home together. He didn't know how or why, but he was satisfied, and going home to Draco didn't sound so bad.

So he did.

\- - - - -

Draco found himself outside of a quiet cafe in a little corner of Hogsmeade, away from all the hustle and bustle of the major shops and few inns. He was there due to an invitation from Seamus of all people.

Recently, Seamus had reached out to discuss their favorite novels. They realized they had incredibly similar tastes and went on to analyze and fantasize about their favorite characters together. Now Seamus wanted to meet in person because Draco mentioned Harry's suggestion of writing his own book.

When he entered, Seamus stood to greet him and Draco made his way over to the little table in the corner. He sat down with a soft smile as the scent of coffee beans hit him from the other’s cup. Although he wasn't a huge fan of coffee, he liked the smell and didn't mind kissing the flavor off of a man's lips, as he did to a coy Hufflepuff in year five.

"Finnigan, lovely to see you."

"Oh, please, it's just Seamus. I feel we're friendly enough for that."

Draco nodded and corrected himself, "Right, Seamus. You wanted to talk about writing a book?"

"Of course! If you're thinking about writing then I have to do everything I can to encourage you to do it."

The blonde was a bit bewildered and tilted his head as the other sipped a cup of coffee. "You genuinely believe I'd be any good?"

Seamus gave a grin as he answered, "I've heard you wax poetic about enough fictional men to know you could get the job done."

He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "Only a bit." He mumbled before reengaging in the discussion. "I'm not even sure what to write about."

"Write about what you know."

Draco leaned back in his seat and thought a while. "Well, I suppose I know a bit about sneaking around at Hogwarts."

"Anything else?"

"I know what it's like to be attracted to a close friend."

Seamus' mouth opened to say something, but no words came out. The corners of his smile faltered and he seemed caught in the implication of Draco's answer. "Oh. May I ask who?"

Draco only raised an eyebrow. "I think it goes without saying."

"Right." Seamus took another sip and tried to move on; but this involved one of his best friends, and his newfound friend. He couldn't let it go. "So, you fancy him?"

"No, not yet. But I might." He knew exactly what he was implying and he didn't regret it in the slightest. He wanted to be honest with Seamus because for the first time in a long time, he was forming a friendship he actually cared about. Crabbe and Goyle weren't friends, but alliances. Their friendships had been arranged to keep their Houses on friendly terms. He once thought of them as genuine friends, but when he realized how fucked in the head they were, he couldn't make himself care for them. Pansy and Blaise, however, had always been like him, which pushed the three of them closer and closer.

Seamus nodded, satisfied. "Well, there's no harm in taking inspiration from real life. How about friends in Hogwarts who fall in love?"

Draco shook his head. "That's good, but used. Yuletide, remember?" He thought a moment, playing around with the idea in his head. "What about two acquaintances from Hogwarts who meet a few years later, become friends, and then fall in love?"

Seamus grinned. "That's perfect! Maybe they could meet up at a charity event and their shared interest is what get's them talking." He knew Draco would know a bit about that as charity events were just another type of social gathering for politicians and the rich.

"Of course, then they exchange contact information, one reaches out the next day, and the-" He gave Seamus a playful smirk, "and they meet for coffee."

He let out a laugh and lifted up his cup. "I'm flattered, but I'll have to decline."

"Oh, understandable. I'm like a fine wine, you know, I really am an acquired taste." He'd gotten into the habit of using his old superiority as a joke around Harry. Since it pleased Harry, he's started using it around other friends.

Seamus chuckled and shook his head. "I'm certain you are."

Draco let out a laugh, glad the other found his jest to be in good tastes. "Alright, so they go out for coffee, and then what? They have to have lives other than each other. What do they work as, who are their friends?"

Seamus pondered the questions a moment before throwing out a suggestion. "Well, it'd only be fair that they each have one girl and one boy best friend. Perhaps one could work in the Ministry and then the other could do something else?"

Draco nodded and thought a while. "Oh, one could work as a lawyer. I do know quite a lot about wizarding law." He grew up learning the ins and outs of the government, as many purebloods did.

"The other could work for a newspaper, or something. Something less high-end."

"Maybe a photographer, but not like paparazzi. More like models or something."

Seamus nodded and took another sip of coffee. "Bit blatant about their roles in sex, yea?"

A confused smile graced Draco’s face. "What?” As much as he didn’t understand what Seamus was implying, it was still a bit amusing to hear.

"Because the other one is a lawyer." He said it as if it was obvious. When he saw the blank stare Draco sent him, he realized the other wasn't going to get it, so he explained himself. "Draco, people with important jobs, they tend to be more submissive. CEOs, subs. Lawyers, subs. Politicians, subs. People who work in a position where they have a lot of control and power, are submissive in sex. But a photographer, someone will less control, more likely to be a dom."

Draco's eyes widened as he had a very different realization than what Seamus intended. Harry might be a bit submissive. Not to mention the responsibility of the war, and the house he was responsible for taking care of when he lived with the Dursley’s. Draco, however, had no problem with this. It was more pleasurable for him to ride, and he wouldn't mind seeing the other squirm beneath him. He blinked a few times and said, "I'm not even sure I'll be writing any sex. That's a bit beyond me."

Seamus nodded. "I didn't really think you would, but if you did, that would make the most sense." They continued their conversation for a few more hours before Seamus seemed to remember something. "Oh, I brought something for you." He said as he pulled something out of his bag. He sat a copy of Witches Weekly on the table and looked up with a grin. "Turn to page twenty-seven."

Draco furrowed his eyebrows, but obeyed. He flipped to the page and was met with a 'Most Desirable Bachelors' list. He grinned when he saw he was second behind Harry Potter himself.

"This is hilarious." He said as he read it over. It was all about how Harry is a hero, is gorgeous, and has a bit of money. It goes on to wonder how he could possibly be single. Next is Draco, referred to as a man with a good heart who eventually came around to do good. It praised his genius in Hogwarts and his sense of fashion before questioning how he didn't have someone on his arm at all times.

"Keep it and show Harry. It'll make him laugh."

They left the coffee shop and were about to part ways when they noticed a few reporters taking pictures of them. They both sighed and said very quick goodbyes before heading in opposite directions.

They each hurried home and when Draco arrived, he set the magazine down on the coffee table before putting on a Christmas record and going to make hot chocolate. As much as he didn't understand muggle technology, he'd managed to figure out the record player by watching Harry use it all the time. Still, he often feigned ignorance just to make the other get up and put on a record.

He sat down with his hot chocolate and curled up a bit on the couch, laying a blanket over himself as he watched the snow start to fall outside. He listened to the music, took in the decorated sitting room, snuggled under the blanket, and sipped his his cocoa. Everything felt so picturesque and perfect. Never in his life has one moment felt so right, but everything in that one moment was so good. He smiled and closed his eyes, drinking in the feeling of everything being okay. Part of him was worried that the feeling wouldn't last, that something else would come after Harry and himself. A small frown took over and he cast his doubts aside, wanting to photograph this moment, these feelings, and keep them locked in his mind forever.

He took everything in and sighed, taking another long sip and letting the warmth spread through him. He was so relaxed that the sound of the Floo being used made him jump and let out a yelp.

Harry looked at Draco in surprise from where he stood in the Floo. He gave a sheepish grin and felt a bit bad about scaring the other. "Apologies." He said as he shrugged off his Wizengamot robes. He hated wearing them. He thought the plum color looked absolutely ridiculous, not to mention the fabric didn't feel too great. "How was your talk with Seamus?"

"It was well. We accidentally planned out a bit of a potential book." He said before taking another sip. "I'm still on the fence about writing but I'm heavily considering it. Some reporters got a few pictures of us when we left. I wonder what stories they'll spin out of it." As his mind drifted, his disinterest changed to a small smirk. "I'm hoping at least one thinks we're dating." He couldn't resist the appeal of just a bit of mischief.

Harry chuckled at the thought. "Oh, I hope they have fun with it." He agreed as he went down the hall to toss his robes into his room. He returned and sat down on the couch, about to say something until his eyes hit the copy of Witches Weekly on the table. "Ah, I was told they wrote something about me." He said as he picked up the magazine and began flicking through the pages. "Where did you get this?" He knew Draco wasn't subscribed, but after only a second of thought he answered his own question, "Seamus, yea?"

Draco nodded. "He showed me where you were mentioned. It's on page twenty-seven, by the way." He commented before drinking some more.

He saw the 'Most Desirable Bachelors' list and let out a chuckle. "Wow, I can't believe I'm first." He said before his eyes fell to the second slot. He grinned and read it aloud. "Draco Malfoy comes as a close second. Although he was forced to attempt terrible things, his good heart shone through in his intentional failures as a Death Eater, rebelling in his own way. While at Hogwarts, his mind got a chance to shine as he was a star pupil and easily the most intelligent man in his year. Beyond the uniforms and robes, Malfoy also has a phenomenal sense of fashion as he has been seen wearing an original fur hat by Florence Fouquereau. With all these amazing qualities under his belt, we can only wonder how Malfoy doesn’t always have someone on his arm.”

The blonde rolled his eyes at the article, pretending he wasn't flattered. "I can't help my genius, wonderful personality, and overwhelming beauty."

"I thought you were an acquired taste? Like fine wine, you said." He spoke in reference to the few times he's heard Draco say that about himself.

"I suppose the wizarding world is developing better tastes."

Harry chuckled and gave a soft nod. "Oh, of course." He joked as he set the magazine back down. He couldn't help how the article, and his conversation with Alex, made his mind wander. Draco was labeled desirable and Alex thought they were together. It made him involuntarily think of Draco in that manner. He fought back a small smile at the thought of their marriage being more than a social arrangement. Of course, he didn’t want that right now, not really. But something about the thought warmed his heart and was strangely appealing.

Draco's mind did the same due to Harry's number one position and the previous revelation that Harry might be submissive. His mind was much less romantic in it's depictions, however, preferring carnality to sweet thoughts. He smirked to himself as he could see Harry under him, writhing in pleasure, eyes closed tight, lips parted, hands groping for Draco's hips. He sipped his cocoa and pulled his mind from the gutter, even though he greatly enjoyed it being there.

Harry glanced over at the blonde and was about to say something, but he was hushed by his thoughts. Once again, he couldn't help but to wonder, what if? What if it became real? What if something serious happened between them? Was he even ready for something like that? He forced words to come out of his mouth to cover up his roaming mind, asking Draco where the cocoa mix was. He was given instructions and his body went into autopilot, making himself a drink while his thoughts ran. He couldn't help but to wonder if he would ever he ready for something like that. It wasn't as if he was dying to be in a relationship. He also knew he needed to get through these last few battles in Wizengamot, and he needed to work on himself, before he could even think of someone else. In all fairness, he has been having a mild identity crisis with the loss of his old monikers and his complete wardrobe change.

Harry returned to the couch and they drank their hot cocoa in silence, both soaking in the moment. It was warm, a soft holiday song in the background, snowing, the room cozy, their bodies hit with heat at each sip. Everything was perfect, and their minds wandered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11/18/2019 - We hit 420 kudos, almost as cool as 69. I'm so proud of this community.


	19. Come Along, Run Away

Neville Longbottom, Arthur and Molly Weasley, and Narcissa and Draco Malfoy all found themselves in the lobby of Gringott's bank for the same reason. They were the last remaining descendants of the House of Black, and there were a few things to settle.

With Harry's refusal to keep any of the assets of such a vile house, the properties had spent the last three months on the market. Hardly anyone was interested, let alone rich enough to consider buying. Very few real estate agents attempted to sell them and it was clear not much could be done to promote their sale. So, with the properties being nearly worthless, Gringott's decided to reinstate their positions of inheritance. They did, however, give Harry the option to lay claim as he once owned them. He declined and said he wanted nothing to do with it.

Although Draco didn't expect to get anything, as his mother was technically the heir, she asked him to come along because she didn't want to go alone.

While he was off, Harry decided to spend the day with Hermione. They wandered through Hogsmeade and sat down for drinks at The Three Broomsticks. Their conversation started off light enough, catching up, talking about Hermione and Ron's relationship, discussing their future Ministry plans, they even spoke about Louis Luther, the man Harry had Alex write about. Not only was Harry’s declaration of support very effective in swaying public opinion, but the opposition succumbed to rumor and found themselves behind Luther, who was no doubt a terrible leader.

"Now we're in the waiting game. His fall is inevitable." Harry declared with a smile.

Hermione nodded and decided to make an attempt at changing the subject. She's noticed that Harry only ever wanted to talk about work or her life. He never spoke about himself. So she decided to check in on him. "And how have you been? Anything new, that isn't work related."

Harry gave a shy smile as if he had been caught. He liked that she recognized his own habit of ignoring himself. "Well, I had a mild identity crisis. As you know, I've given up the old Harry. I also ended up donating most of my clothes because they didn't make me happy, and I got new ones. Nearly everything is new."

She cracked a smile. "Yes, I noticed your jeans actually fit you, and I didn't remember you owning any button-ups. Shopping in muggle cities?"

"Of course. The wizarding world isn't modern enough to carry this stuff." He mumbled into his drink. The wizarding world had a fashion of it's own that centered heavily around long robes and modesty, while Harry was finally confident and reckless enough to show himself off a bit. So, when deciding where to shop, it was only natural for him to drift to muggle society. "I also got myself a self-help book, because I realized I might've spiraled a little out of control. I've also picked up meditation. I don't do it very often, but it's quite nice. I really think I need to figure out who the hell I am now."

Hermione nodded and beamed at her friend. "Well that's quite responsible of you, Harry. I'm proud."

He let out a shy chuckle and thanked her. "Did Molly tell you about the adjusted Christmas plans?"

"Yes, everyone is meant to spend Christmas morning in their own homes, then we all come together for the afternoon to exchange gifts and have lunch. I'm quite excited." She tilted her head, knowing the change wasn't so spur-of-the-moment. She also knew that there was a reason Harry brought it up. "I assume the change was your doing, then?"

"It is." He nodded. "Draco wanted to spent Christmas morning together since he can’t visit his mum and friends till the afternoon. Plus, I'd rather spend Christmas morning lazing around in my sleepwear. It's a holiday, after all."

"Understandable." She agreed.

Now that that was over, she did have some work-related concerns she wanted to discuss. "So, we have to present The Cupboard Project next week. Are you ready?"

Harry took a deep breath and seemed to think over it a moment before answering. "I think so. I was thinking we explain the department outline in layman terms for the preliminary vote, and whenever Greenwood finishes the associated laws, we'll have him come in and speak at the secondary vote." The first vote was to introduce the department and see if everyone agreed with it's purpose, functions, and abilities. If they did, it moved on to it's second and final vote. He wasn't worried about it because public support was so high that there was almost no room for opposition. "I'm more worried for Pawk's bill."

Hermione nodded. "It will be harder, but we've made friends with Crow and now she's very openly supporting the bill."

They both knew they only had Crow's support because after the scandal leaked, Hermione and Pawk were the only people who didn't turn their backs on her, and she was desperate to save her face. They didn't speak much about it as they both knew it wasn't the most morally-sound strategy, but they also didn't care as much as they used to about morals. All they saw was progress and any obstacles would be run over.

Their conversation went back to Christmas and Harry told the story of Draco and his Christmas decorating, after Hermione brought up the picture of them that had stirred up so many questions in the papers. People asked if they were good friends or dating. But when the photos of Draco and Seamus at a coffee shop went around, the stories changed to the two either being good friends, in a relationship, or perhaps Draco was cheating on one with the other. Dean, however, was very fast to set the record straight by officially coming out in his relationship with Seamus. He did this by snogging Seamus in front of three reporters and declaring that they can stop accusing Draco of being with Seamus.

The story was now that Seamus and Dean are together, Draco is getting friendly with former rebels, and he's probably just friends with Harry. It was quite a hilarious whirlwind of events.

"So you two are all prepared for the holidays then?" Hermione asked.

"Sort of." Harry admitted sheepishly. "I don't know what to get him for Christmas. I know I want to get him a few gay romances since muggle literature has plenty more options. I just don't know what else. He has this tradition that he insists on upholding," He cut himself off with a soft laugh, as Slytherins were known for being traditionalists. He didn’t know why he said it as if Draco’s traditionalism was unexpected. "He insists that on Christmas Eve, in the evening, we each open one present. I want that one to be different. He can have his books Christmas morning, but I want the first one to be different. Something ....." He trailed off and tried to find the right word.

"Personal?" Hermione offered after deciding that "special" might be too meaningful and domestic for Harry's liking. Although Draco was important to Harry, she understood their marriage was a touchy subject.

"Personal, exactly!"

She looked out the window and saw that the snow had stopped. Even so, they were dressed for the winter weather. "Want to go look around, then? You might fine something."

"Seriously?"

"Might as well. I need to do a bit more shopping anyways." She said with a shrug.

With that, they got up and headed out, venturing into the cold and heading towards the shops. They glanced through the windows to see if there was anything they were interested in, giving each other suggestions on gifts.

Harry eventually talked Hermione into buying Ron a few spellbooks on offensive and defensive strategies, since he would be facing a lot of criminals in his career.

Hermione threw out a few suggestions as they walked, pointing out everything from candy to robes to accessories. Each one was met with disapproval, either for being too expected or too boring. He very desperately wanted to get Draco something different this year, something meaningful. He knows Draco is used the all the glitz and glamour of high society, he knew material wealth and lavish gifts. His name meant dragon and Harry knew it well. Draco was surrounded by the hoards of wealth all his life, and it bored him. The glitter of gold and the softness of fabrics wouldn't impress because Draco's seen it all. Expensive objects are good for nothing but being looked at, and although Draco did have an eye for decoration, it would only take up space. He wanted a gift that would do more than simply exist.

He knew the books would be very important to Draco, as they reflected his hobby and who he was as a person. They took his personal struggle and normalized it, they gave him a bit of validation in their own way. But the Christmas Eve gift, it was too important to simply be a book, not when Draco's other gifts were going to be books. He ended up buying a pair of silver cufflinks with snakes on them. "Because he's a Slytherin."

He thought it was funny, albeit a little lame.

As they were going to leave the shop, his eye was caught by a flash of silver. He turned and saw a few necklaces. Draco didn't wear jewelry, but something about them made his hand slowly retreat from the handle of the door. He looked on and his body shifted, turning to approach the jewelry. He wasn't sure what he expected to find and he didn't know why he was wasting his time on such a normal present. But nevertheless, he approached.

He looked down at them and an older woman who was fixing some earrings on display noticed him. "Interested, are you? I should warn you, those aren't normal necklaces."

Harry couldn't leave on a comment as cryptic as that. "How?"

The lady turned to face him and handed him one of the necklaces while she put on it's match. "Put it on and I'll show you."

Harry did as he was told and felt the cool metal hit just outside of his shirt. The necklaces were simple chains of silver with a single rosebud at the end, carved in a great amount of detail. It wasn't too big, but it was just enough to catch eyes.

She held the rosebud in her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Harry felt his necklace heat up, warming him. A smile spread across his face while Hermione just looked a bit confused.

"It heats up." Harry explained and the lady let out a soft chuckle, "My granddaughter and her husband have a pair. He once had to travel to India and they stayed connected with these. It just let's the other know you're thinking about them." She took off the necklace and set it back on the display before turning back to finish arranging the earrings.

Hermione picked up a pair with silver lilies for charms. She eyed Harry's roses and offered the necklaces.

Harry accepted the trade and held the two lily necklaces in his hand, wondering if his mother would be proud of him as he approached the counter. Maybe she would admire that he's making the best of his situation, maybe she would be warmed by how unconditional his heart was, maybe she would laugh at the way he was so blind to his own feelings. He knew how foolish this was, how personal this one, he knew of the romance to be interpreted. He knew, yet he still chose to buy them. Words hung above him, desperately trying to name what he felt. He didn't fancy Draco, that much he knew. But the respect and appreciation he felt was deeper than he has ever felt before. Maybe it was more than friendship, but it wasn't a crush, and he could deal with that. He could stomach that. He could handle that. But part of him knew he wasn't that lucky, he's never that lucky. A comfortable life isn't one worth living, anyways. He knew he was playing with fire, but it wasn't the flames he feared, it was the all-consuming warmth. Emotions were uncomfortable, and once he started feeling them he wouldn't be able to stop. Once he started feeling them, he would no longer exist in the comfortable bubble he lived in now. But just like Draco, he wasn't afraid of an adventure. So no, he didn't fancy the lad, but he was very aware that one day, he might.

Harry was trying to tame a dragon with silver, but he knew this was unlike any treasure Draco had ever held.

Since Harry's home was close-by, they walked there, chatting about the necklaces as they went along. Hermione knew Ron would have to leave for missions to hunt down dark wizards and she thought this would be the perfect way to stay connected. Harry still didn't quite know what drew him to the necklaces, but he was glad he got them.

They sat down in the sitting room, discussing the few presents they'd yet to buy. Hermione shook her head at the long list of Weasleys they had to get something for and she commented, "We really ought to get them into doing Secret Santa, so we each only have to worry about one person and we could focus on getting them something meaningful."

Harry nodded in agreement, and just as he was about to speak, a letter flew in threw the mail slot. He went to pick up the letter and furrowed his eyebrows as he saw it was from Gringotts. "Gringotts." He commented to Hermione as he opened it and read it's contents. "Shit, it's about settling something with Draco." He hurried to grab his jacket.

"Settle what?"

"It doesn't say, but it requests my immediate presence." He explained as they hugged and Hermione went ahead and took the Floo home while Harry slipped the leather jacket on and stepped in it next, going to Gringotts bank. There was a goblin standing just outside the Floo, apparently waiting for him. "Harry Potter-Malfoy, please follow me."

Harry cringed at his legal name, following the goblin towards a familiar hallway that lead to the offices and meeting rooms. By some sick twist of fate, he was taken into the same meeting room where his marital contract was hashed out. Inside, he saw Molly and Arthur, Narcissa and Draco, Neville, and another goblin sitting around a table with a few files around them. Everyone seemed really sad, except Draco. Draco was silently shedding tears, glaring at the table in outrage.

"Uhm, you needed to see me?" He addressed the goblin.

"Yes, thank you for coming on such short notice." There wasn't a hit of gratitude in his voice, he only said it to be polite. He seemed to just want to get everything over with. "Your mother-in-law, Narcissa Malfoy, would like to will her inheritance to your husband, Draco Malfoy. Given the nature of your marital contract, all of his properties must be approved of by you before he can own them. I need your verbal approval on the following properties." He said as he slid a few files towards Harry.

"No, it's fine. He can have them." Harry said, no longer looking at the goblin and never having glanced at the files. His eyes were on Draco. He knew the lad was probably hurt, sad, embarrassed, and angry. He started towards Draco while the goblin gave a curt nod, "Right. With all that settled, you're all free to go." The goblin stamped a paper and gathered his filed before leaving.

Neville was the first to go, setting a hand on Harry's shoulder and mumbling a, "Good luck, mate." Before heading out.

Harry nodded and then knelt beside where Draco sat, Narcissa on the other side of him with her hand on his back.

Draco set his head on the table, embarrassed and shamed. He hated that they had to go through all that just for some stupid inheritance. He also hated that Harry had to interrupt his day to come down there, as he was aware Harry was planning to spend the afternoon with Hermione. "I told him you would be okay with it." He strained to speak into the table. His voice was weak and angry. "I fucking told him to just do it, and if you didn't like it you could change it later. I fucking told him, but he said it was against policy." His fist bangs against the table as he finally sat up with red cheeks and eyes. "Bollocks."

Somehow, Harry didn't flinch at the noise. He moved from crouching to resting on his knees beside where Draco sat. His only concern was making Draco feel better. There wasn't anything he could do or say that would make things alright. He knew how Draco has been tried and tested these last few months. Magical law, literature, and society have been tearing him apart at the seams. He knew Draco needed to get away from it all, and Harry wanted that as well. Harry knew that he was going to sound insane, he knew there was a good chance Draco would say no, and he was very aware that he was going in without a plan, but he could already feel the way his mind had thrown caution to the wind. There was no going back. So he opened his mouth, and took a chance.

"Run away with me."

All eyes turned to stare at Harry, bewildered by such a bold request. Narcissa wanted to protest the idea of someone just stealing her son away, but she saw something in Harry's eyes that had never been there before, and although it's presence surprised her, she said nothing and let the two have their moment.

Draco's jaw dropped. He found himself faced with a line that had only ever been spoken to him in his fantasies, but now, a handsome man was on his knees, asking for an adventure. "What?" His voice came out in a whispered shock.

"Just for a day or two, we can go anywhere you want. Let's just run away for a little while."

Draco's heart lurched towards the man before him and something in his chest erupted with emotion. He saw Harry, he truly saw him. He wasn't like the boys who were either desperate to keep up appearances or slightly afraid of him. Harry was spontaneous. He bought record players and Christmas music on a whim, he went on candy runs and surprised Draco with caramel, he changed his wardrobe because it displeased him and he was more concerned with his own happiness than appearances. He spoke with Draco about things no one else knew about, they cooked together, got drunk and laughed together, they wasted so many hours in that sitting room, he was so unfamiliar yet still so similar to the old Harry. He still fought in Wizengamot. He didn't relent and exhibited no restraint for what was just. Harry was everything Draco had ever wanted, but never had, and now, he wanted to run away together.

Another tear fell, but not for sadness. It fell for the sheer weight of the feelings that bloomed in his chest. There were flowers sprouting from his body, reaching for Harry like the sun. Now he's done it, he's ruined everything. He likes Harry so much more than before. He likes Harry and he knows there was no chance the other felt the same way. But then again, Draco had always moved fast. He was used to eyeing a boy for a day or two, chasing him down for a few days, and then having their night together. But these feelings had crept upon him, nothing more than shadows that had followed him around for weeks, and now, all of a sudden, they've finally decided to strike, and Draco was woefully unprepared.

"Okay."


	20. La Petite Mort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (n.) French. Translates to, “The Little Death.” Euphemism for the feeling of post-orgasm as likened to death.

France.

Harry should have known.

The Malfoys had a small vacation property there that Draco still had access to. It was a fairly large house, though not half the size of their manor. It was coated in a layer of snow and surrounded by nature, hidden away from the rest of the world as it sat somewhere on the countryside.

They didn’t immediately enter. Instead, Draco stood outside, holding the small bag he had packed for the weekend. Harry stood beside him, holding his own bag. He didn’t say a word and waited on Draco’s cue.

Draco stared at the house. A house he hadn’t seen in six years. He missed it greatly and was very happy to be back, but he was also worried. He was worried it would remind him too much of his old life, of his father, that it would only make him sad to be there. This place was so important to him, he didn’t want to associate it with anything sad. He so desperately needed this to be his happy place. His eyes searched the exterior for any sign of a bad memory, but there was nothing. Although he missed the man he used to know, he was content with him only existing in memories. As they flowed through his mind he was pleasantly surprised that they weren’t as painful as he thought they would be. Rather, they brought a soft and hesitant smile to his face.

He gave in and walked towards the house, and with the wave of his wand, the door was unlocked. He was honestly surprised the lock still responded to his magic, but thankful nonetheless.

As he stepped inside he was hit with a wave of warmth. His smile widened and he set his bag down, taking in the sight of the house he hasn’t seen in so long. It was still decorated for spring as that’s when his family typically visited. It looked as gorgeous as ever in winter.

“This is my favorite vacation home.” He implied multiple others as Harry closed the door behind them.

“It’s beautiful.” Harry commented as he stepped forward to occupy the space next to Draco. He had a million questions and suggestions, but he knew what Draco had come here for. He didn’t come here for Harry to ask where a room, he didn’t come here to sit about, he didn’t come here to worry about whether or not someone would come along and catch them, he didn’t come here to think. He came here to be whisked away, so that’s what Harry intended on doing. “Do you want to go sledding?”

Draco looked over at him, almost surprised. In truth, he hasn’t gone sledding since he was a child because after a certain age it became improper. But now, none of that mattered. Appearances, manners, sophistication, posture, everything that had once ruled his life was thrown out the window, along with caution, which drifted away in a cold breeze.

“Sure. I know a hill close by and there are sleds in the storage room.” Although the Malfoy's typically only visited in spring, he knew there were sleds left over from one winter when he was seven and his mother insisted on coming.

Of all Draco's books about wild and romantic adventures, they all had one thing in common; they were at least a bit sexy. If they were battling dark wizards it was sexy, sneaking around was sexy, going off on a long journey was sexy, even the playful banter and relaxed moments were sexy. But there was absolutely nothing sexy about watching Harry hold on to a sled for dear life, race down a hill, and screech the whole way as his cheeks turned red and his nose ran. They were both freezing, tired from walking up the hill over and over, and their sleeves were damp from all the times they wiped their eyes and nose. It wasn't sexy at all, but it was beautiful.

He's never heard Harry screech before. He's never seen Harry flail his arms, fall off a sled, and tumble down a hill. He's never seen Harry throw his head back and laugh like he did when Draco fell. Not until today. Something about it was oddly intimate. This was a never-before-seen look into who Harry is as a person rather than as a student or a soldier. He saw a glimpse of something more, a glimpse he had never gotten until three weeks ago when they started spending their evenings together. Something about it was just so lovely and although it was beyond freezing outside, Draco felt warm. He also felt himself smile, his heart occasionally flutter, excitement rush through him for seemingly no reason at all, and he felt like a fool for it all. But he wasn't upset. Even if none of it worked out in his favor, he was happy to have what he had, while he had it.

Harry's grin was the dorkiest thing he'd ever seen, the way his hair was full of snow and stuck in a million directions from the wind bothered him, and his runny nose made Draco want to gag. Some stupid crush didn't change the way he felt about those things, but somehow, he also thought it was weirdly charming. Harry was no Greek god or paragon of male beauty, he was so flawed and he wore each one on his sleeve, and it was charming to Draco because he couldn't dismiss it. Harry's flaws couldn't be overlooked, they demanded attention but they still looked so cute. This was Harry, flawed and free.

The afternoon sun was bright and warm enough to feel a difference when one of them stood in the shade. But Harry appreciated it even more when it shone on Draco. Though ht was wearing that stupid fur hat again, the hair that peaked out shone in the sun. It made his hair look even lighter, almost like silver. Harry was never one to get dreamy over someone's hair, so he was almost a bit alarmed when his attention was momentarily snatched by it. He shook it off and took his turn. He raced down the hill and went on until he hit a rock and tumbled down the rest of the way. He heard Draco's howling laughter behind him as he slid down to meet Harry. Draco laughed so hard he actually snorted one or twice, which made him laugh even more.

"Are you alright?"

Harry's coat and shirt had lifted, getting snow on his lower stomach. He could also feel a little snow in his trousers. "I'm cold and I'm absolute shit at sledding. How do I keep falling and hitting rocks? Why don't you ever fall?"

Draco chuckled and picked up Harry's sled. "Because I'm perfect. Now let's get you inside before you injure yourself." He carried the sleds while Harry trailed behind, occasionally shaking a bit of snow out of his clothes.

When they returned to the house, Draco showed Harry to a spare room before heading to the one he always used to sleep in. They each laid out their pajamas and a set of clothes for tomorrow, along with a few toiletries. Packing had been very light. After they returned to the sitting room, Draco made them both hot chocolate while Harry got to work on the fireplace. Rather than using a spell, the blonde watched from the kitchen as Harry manually lit the fire.

Now that was sexy.

Draco felt a warmth embrace his body and he smiled at the strange ruggedness of the man. It was very easily because of his stubble, ability to start fires, and the fact that he was stronger than Draco. Something about it all felt so different from the primmer boys that Draco was used to, they would never look like this or do the things Harry could. Something about it was strangely exotic to him, and that was exciting, but he was just familiar enough that the blonde was still comfortable.

After finally returning to the task at hand, Draco came to realize there was no cocoa mix. Upon telling the other the bad news, Harry grew a curious expression and stepped into the kitchen, looking around. He started pulling things out of cabinets. Plain cocoa powder, brown sugar, and salt were whisked together in a small pot. He put the pot on the cooker and then went for the almond milk; giving a guilty expression when he added some cream as well.

Draco only shook his head, "Hot chocolate is worth it." He watched as in only a few minutes, Harry was taking the pot off the cooker and mixing in a small pinch of vanilla before pouring it into two mugs, handing one to Draco with a proud smile. The blonde only raised an eyebrow and blew on it before taking a sip. It was much better than any cocoa mixture he's ever tried. His surprised expression must have given it away because Harry only nodded and commented, "I really should have been a chief."

The two went back into the sitting room and sat on the sofa before the fire. It was so much warmer there.

Harry felt a bit cozier than usual. He had the urge to curl up right there and call it a night, but part of him thought that was ridiculous because Draco's presence blocked half the sofa. Naturally, his first thought to remedy that issue was to curl up _with_ Draco, and that made his eyes widen just a bit. Shocked that his brain would even go there, he decided to refocus and start up a conversation to distract himself. "Cold outside, yea?" He was immediately ridden of any confidence as that was seriously what came out of his mouth. Of all the conversation starters, he decided to point out that it was cold while in the middle of fucking winter.

"It was fucking freezing, Harry. As fun as sledding was I wouldn't do it again. I believe once a year is enough." He said as he wrapped his arms around himself, reminded of how cold he once was. He hated the cold.

Harry let out a chuckle, Draco's response relaxing him into the conversation. "I don't know." He took in the scene before him and let a soft smile slip onto his face. "I like fireplaces and hot chocolate. Winter is the only season my cupboard didn't get too hot. Spring and summer were suffocating, fall was a bit stuffy, but winter was always wonderful." Harry gave a soft smile. "Don't get me wrong, I don't like being cold." He thought a second and seemed to realize what he was trying to say. "I enjoy warming up."

Draco immediately thought of a few ways he and Harry could warm up. He was so attracted to the man next to him, it was ridiculous. "Thank you for making this, by the way."

"Oh it's no problem, I know how much you like hot chocolate and it isn't a hard recipe. A nice cup sounded too good to pass up, anyways." He commended as he took a sip, feeling the drink warm his chest like vodka. He held back a shiver as the warmth spread and made him feel even more comfortable around Draco, just like wine.

The blonde tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "How did you know how much I like hot chocolate?" He needed clarification because he didn't remember telling Harry that it happened to be his favorite winter drink.

"You said it was a tradition to have a cup on Christmas morning, so I figured it must be important to you." He hesitated a moment before asking, "Or did I misinterpret that entirely?"

"No, dead on." Draco corrected as he tried to stop a grin from forming on his face. He honestly didn't expect Harry to remember something that he only mentioned once, but he did. Just like how he remembered the Christmas music and went out to buy a muggle device that would play him all the music he wanted. Once again, he was reminded of how much he liked the man beside him. Harry made him smile, he made him feel loved, he felt wanted and appreciated, he forgot to call himself an acquired taste and thought himself attractive, he felt flirty, he was confident, he wasn't worried about anything and lived in a bubble where nothing else existed beyond whatever room he and Harry found themselves in. He was living in a bubble and it wasn't suffocating like his old life. It was warm, safe, and he didn't want it to pop. It was then that he realized he felt at home. Harry's house wasn't Draco's home, instead, he was hit with the harrowing reality that Harry himself was home. Draco didn't know how to deal with that, he couldn't handle that in the slightest. He was being hit with deeper feelings than he had ever felt before and he didn't know what to do anymore.

Harry, meanwhile, was incredibly confused. As much as he wanted to ignore it, he couldn't get past he fact that he was fantasizing about curling up on the sofa with the man beside him. He's never wanted that before. Of course he's enjoyed having his significant other sit in his lap and he likes hugs, but cuddling was a concept too foreign and vulnerable. It was kind of intimidating to him. Yet instead of feeling uncomfortable or awkward about his thoughts they only made him feel warmer. That alone told him something was very wrong. Idle conversation continued as he tried to get himself sorted in his head.

Draco's spent enough time around the elite fakes to know when someone is too busy inside of their own head to pay attention to the real world. "What are you thinking about?"

The question sent off sirens in Harry's head as he didn't have an automatic response, so he was pulled out of autopilot and into the real world. He looked up into those blue-grey eyes and for a second, he considered telling the truth. But then he realized how stupid that was. If he told the truth, he would have to actually face his strange feelings instead of brushing them off. He was aware that there was a chance those feelings were mutual, he knew it might end in something warm and lovely, but he also knew of the potential consequences. If he wanted the warmth of love he had to submit to the chilling reality of being known, and he wasn't ready for that. Not yet. He also came to realize that this was Draco Malfoy. Draco's never sentimental or loving. Draco pursued men for sex and then made graceful departure. He definitely wasn't ready for that either. So instead of giving a direct answer, he only shook his head and said, "It's just a lot."

Draco raised an eyebrow and tilted his head in a playful expression. He knew Harry was lying, but didn't press. "Is it? Good thing we have all the time in the world."

Harry momentarily panicked. He really didn't want to lie, but the truth was worse. "Intrusive thoughts. I don't really want to talk about it."

There was no way in hell Draco believed what Harry was saying. He knew it must involve him but didn't think it was anything bad. They'd had an excellent day and their conversation was going well. So it could only be something good. Good, but uncomfortable. A small smirk slipped onto his face and he nodded, "Alright, then." Draco wouldn't say that his social skills were superior, but they were. He learned very young to pay attention to the things people do and say, because even when they don't intend it, everything means something. Harry's actions and words were very telling. He was flattered, in a way, by the thought of Harry thinking of him in a new manner. He was hopeful that it might mean he has a chance. That chance, however, wasn't meant to be taken today. Not here. He wanted to do it at home where they were both more comfortable. Though he now basked in a confidence that made him feel like he should have made his move, but he didn't.

In the end, they both went to bed alone.

Harry stayed up an extra two hours, worrying about his thoughts and wondering what exactly it was that he felt. Draco stayed up late as well, but for very different reasons. He was far beyond figuring out how he felt, and instead, had to cope with his feelings. His current issue, however, was far beyond emotional. Really, Draco would have preferred emotions to his current predicament.

His mind was frantically racing, going over every tragedy in his life, every doubt, every anxiety, every bit of trauma, all desperately trying to kill the boner which came after a few thoughts of Harry.

It all started when he remembered the way Harry’s shirt so often rode up on his body when he stretched. He loved seeing the small peek of hair and the soft roll of a muscle. It made his mind wander to their old Quidditch matches, where Harry’s trousers were incorrectly sized and gave a distractingly perfect outline of the muscles on his thighs, grown from years of riding a broomstick. His thoughts continued to wander until he was left in his current state, hard and desperate.

He didn’t want to wank to the thought of Harry, he’d rather have a random fantasy about an old fling than the man who had become his best friend. Part of him felt like it was just a bit too dirty to think of his own friend like that. As he realized his boner wasn’t going anywhere, he reached into his underwear and rolled to lay on his back. He lifted one knee and turned the other leg out, showing himself off to no one as he pulled himself out of his pants. It was a familiar position that he always moved to. Something about being exposed and open excited him.

He wrapped his hand around himself and tried to think of anything else as he finally moved. His head turned to the side and he took a deep breath at the steady and relaxed pleasure that drifted between his legs. Draco was the type to enjoy taking his time. He knew where he was going and was languid in getting there. It was a lesson his old lovers had to learn the hard way as their impatient hands were chided by his slow mouth and hips. Frustrating as it might be, they always gave in to him, and enjoyed themselves far more than they expected. The thought of those old flames had him moving his hips into his hand, rocking himself in his tightening fist. His lips parted and he let his body relax against the bed, slowly taking his pleasure. He wished he could lay like that for hours, but if he tried, he could last a little over thirty minutes, though that required occasionally stopping. The thought of laying in pleasure was far more tempting than the frustration of stopping and his favorite nights went just like that.

His train of thought rode down memory lane for as long as he could control it, until Harry’s face started reappearing. Suddenly, his thoughts were of all the filthy things he’d done, but with Harry instead of previous lovers. Harry was the one riding him, being ridden, calling out as Draco touched him, sucking Draco off, begging on his knees, pinning Draco to a wall and teasing him until he couldn’t take it anymore. Draco was consumed by his mind’s guesses at what Harry’s moans might sound like, what his body might look like. It was so beautiful and enrapturing. He gasped and focused on the image of the man he’s fallen for.

He heard long and low moans in his fantasy. Maybe a few whines, definitely a few whimpers. He heard Harry gasp his name, his voice occasionally breaking or hicking. It was the epitome of male hedonism. All he wanted was to hear the way Harry’s voice would tremble and swell from pleasure. But the images were even better. The way those soft muscles flexed and trembled, how his flesh writhed and twisted, eager and ravenous hands, gentle hips, begging lips. It was more thrilling and captivating than any erotica he’s ever laid eyes on. The thoughts of Harry consumed him while he only laid back and welcomed the hunger.

He furrowed his eyebrows, moving his hand a bit faster and keening into the pleasure. His head tilted back but he didn’t dare to make a sound. Even though he was a few rooms down, Draco was a bit worried about being caught. But that only made things worse as he was thrust into a guilty fantasy about Harry hearing him, walking in, and taking care of Draco’s issue himself.

“Oh fuck.” The small noise slipped out as his back lifted into a little arch from the building pleasure between his legs. It wasn’t as relaxing as it once was, it was heavy. It was the foundation on which he would build his peak. His body stretched and twisted, lifting his shirt and exposing himself even more under the duvet. He bucked his hips at the feeling it gave him and decided not to think too much on how much he enjoyed it, rather, he let the shivers and gasps run through him. His hand was slightly damp from all that leaked out of him, coaxed by sordid joy.

His free hand snaked up and gripped at his own hair, lightly tugging it. He was never one for hair-pulling, but a good grip felt nice. He let out an accidental groan as he felt everything becoming more intense the closer he got to the edge. The groan sent a shiver down his spine as he was reminded of Harry possibly hearing him. He bit his lip and tried to keep himself under control, but his own thoughts distracted him from the fact that every exhale had become a desperate whimper. As much as he wanted to take his time, he was far too eager to hold back. He had to reach the end. His hand and hips sped up as he released his hair and gripped the headboard instead. His body rolled along with his hips, grinding as hard and as fast as he could into his own hand. He was spread out and needy, but he enjoyed it more than he could say. He wasn’t one to be very loud but his whimpers had already turned to small grunts.

A groan slipped out as his back arched even further and his head tilted back. He was gasping and grunting, overcome by the building pleasure. It swirled in his hips and demanded to be released. He raised his hips up and moved his hand as fast as he could, accidentally drawing a soft cry from his mouth as he tried to to finish himself off. His thoughts went on to the idea of Harry’s hand touching him instead. The fantasy was so simple, yet it was the one thing he wanted the most right now. He didn’t need sex or Harry’s heart, right now, he only needed a hand. His thighs shook and his little noises only grew more desperate as he got closer. As much as he once wanted to make the night last a while, the Harry in his mind was egging him on, demanding that he finish, that he give Harry his cum. Draco didn’t know why his fantasies had become so lewd but it only made him want to finish even more.

He was mewling for his orgasm as he felt the pleasure in his hips reaching out for it. When he finally grasped it a low groan was all he could manage. His hips jerked and his thighs shook. He writhed and gasped as relief flooded his body. Soft noises left him, curses, gasps, whines, whimpers, and unfortunately, Harry’s name.

He rolled his hips, letting the feeling wash over his body for a few more seconds. There was a warm wetness on his hand and he groped for his wand to cast a cleaning charm. A shiver ran through him as the magic swept over such a sensitive area.

He felt strangely satisfied with himself. He knew it was a bit obscene to wank to the thought of his best friend, but the inherent naughtiness made it even more exciting. He had no regrets, and if he could, he wouldn’t hesitant to make his fantasies a reality.

Draco laid there with his legs splayed, a hand on his stomach and the other by his head, letting sleep slowly take over. His mind and heart slowed and his body was still. Draco was at rest for what felt like the first time in months.

“Bollocks!” He cursed as his eyes suddenly popped open, disappointment running through his veins. It was then that he remembered the Malfoy summer home in Venice. He should have taken Harry there, as he remembered it only had one bed.


	21. Sappho's Poems and Shakespeare's Sonnets

Sunbeams danced on Harry's body as he stood in the kitchen. He was dressed in a red sweater with an 'H' sewed on the front and Draco recognized it as the sweater knitted by Molly Weasley herself. It was a bit big on Harry since she never knew his measurements, but he loved it dearly. He was smiling at absolutely nothing at all. There was a happiness in the air, and whatever plagued Harry's mind last night must have resolved itself, because in Draco's eyes, nothing in the world could be wrong. Not today. Not here. Not when they were together.

Everything about Harry; the way he cooked breakfast, the way he moved through the room, his voice and laughter, how he smiled, and the way he made anywhere feel like home; it was all pure poetry to Draco. For some sad moment, he was inspired by the man he didn't have. The man who existed just outside of his grasp.

"I'm going to do it."

Draco's voice came as a surprise to them both. Harry turned with a raised eyebrow, "Going to do what?"

"I'm going to write the book."

Harry grinned at him before turning back to the omelettes he was making, "Are you? I think that's wonderful. What made you decide to finally do it?"

"It's something I love, and I think I'd regret never trying."

Something about that gave Harry paused before he responded. "I think that's a wonderful reason. Life is too short for regrets."

"My thoughts exactly."

The happy air came under attack by something heavy. It leaked into the room and blanketed the lightness like oil on water. Something in their hearts and minds demanded to be out in the open. Something demanded to be said, and they each knew what it was. The room turned sour and they shifted, trying to occupy themselves, trying to do anything other than confess. But this was so different from their other urges to confess. This time, they were so completely alone. There was only them, in a small house, surrounded by forest. They were utterly isolated. Anything could happen and there was no concern for the outside world. It was so incredibly domestic that they could almost convince themselves they were already together, that there was no need to voice the words that hung in the air and aimed to smoke them out. Still, in the strangling atmosphere, they remained unmoved.

As Harry awkwardly finished cooking, Draco tried to fix the atmosphere. He couldn't let them brew in it. He had to change things, so he offered a new topic. "I am having a bit of trouble with the speech patterns. I planned to have one a lawyer while the other is a photographer. The linguistics of the lawyer will remain more formal, but the latter, I'm not sure about."

Harry found himself sparked with interest. "What's the issue, exactly?"

"Well, the lawyer will eventually refer to the other as his boyfriend. But I don't want the photographer to use the same language. I want him to use a different word. Something more," he paused a moment, trying to find the right description. "More meaningful? Sentimental? I just want it to be different."

Harry thought a moment, and for a second, his mind drifted to a Queen song. Of course, he knew there was no point in bringing up a band Draco wouldn't recognize, but it reminded him of a song he liked, Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy. Since the first time he heard the song, he insisted on calling every significant other his "lover". Even back when all he could do was ogle Krum or flirt with Diggory, he would speak of one day making them his "lover". He'd even had the same terrible thoughts of Bill Weasley, and for a brief moment of his life, Sirius Black. But then again, no one could deny they were lookers. So against better judgement, he make his suggestion. "What about lover?"

Draco only raised an eyebrow, "Lover? Bit simple, yea?"

Harry only shrugged. "Perhaps, but it's so soft and pure; timeless and amorous." He let a smile slip onto his face as he was caught in a few painful memories of what could have been. His mind was both romantic and sensual. "It's sunrays and rose petals, old marriages and new beginnings, Sappho's poems and Shakespeare's sonnets." He pulled from fantasies as his thoughts turned lewd. "It's hungry hands, wild flings, and making love for the thousandth time. It's a coy glance, a bold summer, the lifted corner of a mouth, pinning someone down dressed in only moonbeams." It was everything he had ever wanted from the objects of his affection, and everything he knew he would never have. "Lover, lover, lover. Lovers." It was everything he wished he could have with Draco.

Draco's eyes widened in surprise, enraptured by every word, holding on. He heard everything he's ever wanted to hear. So sweet and rough, selfish and pure, it sound like an adventure. With that, he knew his heart was stolen.

The silence prompted Harry to glanced over at Draco from where they sat at the table, looking over omelettes that were starting to get cool. "Are you alright? Draco?" The other was staring at him with parted lips and wide eyes. He didn't think what he said was so profound.

It was then that Draco realized Harry was nothing like the lawyer character in his mind, but instead, he was the photographer. Or maybe, he was both. Two different sides of Harry, personified as the characters in his love story. He felt like a fool, but wouldn't change a thing. "Yea, I'm fine. I just never put so much thought into a word before."

Harry shrugged and got a bit coy. "It's what I would always call the people I was with or that I was flirting with. I wanted something more than girlfriend or boyfriend. Those are hardly words of affection, more like titles. I wanted something that I could call them and know I was the only one. Others could call them my boyfriend or girlfriend, but only I could call them lover. It just always felt more intimate to me. So that's what I use."

It was then that Draco decided he could get used to hearing the word. As a matter of fact, he wouldn't mind hearing Harry call him that. A small smile graced his face as they began to eat. The silence was much more comfortable than before. The entire moment changed something inside of Draco. He was shot with an extra dose of confidence. These last few weeks together, and the very spontaneous trip, it made everything feel so different now. He knew exactly what had changed. Draco knew he'd fallen, but a week ago, he made the choice to fall. Rather, he didn't fall at all. He walked down this path, choosing every step. Draco's mind chose Harry, and now, his heart has too.

After they cleaned up all evidence of their stay, they stood before the Floo with their bags. Draco used his newfound boldness to make a move, just a small one for starts. He set a hand on Harry's shoulder, which is the most physical contact they'd had in their entire relationship. "Thank you, Harry. This really meant a lot to me." He could feel the adoration coming from his own gaze and he didn't even attempt to correct himself. The small flush on Harry's cheeks told him the other could feel it as well.

The contact came as a bit of a shock to Harry, as did the look Draco gave him, but some reason, he liked it. He really liked it. He liked it more than he wanted to. Although Harry had been a bit oblivious in the past, it was easy to not notice his surroundings when he was constantly wondering when the next slight on his life would take place. But now, he was aware. He was so painfully aware. He knew exactly what Draco was doing and he knew it was being done on purpose.

Truthfully, Harry wanted it. He wanted it so badly. There was a voice in the back of his head. It invaded his thoughts, seeped into his bones, gripped his heart, and touched his soul. It called out to him and begged to be heard. It raided his body until it seeped out of him with each exhale. The voice ruled him, and it told him that this was all so very wrong.

This is wrong.

He can't do this.

Draco was taken aback by the conflict and defeat in Harry's eyes. He removed his hand, but leaned in just a bit closer. "Are you alright?"

"I ....." He trailed off, knowing what he needed to say, but struggling to find the words. "We need to talk."

Draco's gaze turned serious and he gave a nod before stepping into the Floo with Harry, giving their home and throwing down the powder. With a flash, they were back home and Draco was terrified. He's been nervous, hesitant, scared, but Draco has never been so terrified in Harry's presence. Not even when Harry nearly killed him. That day, all he felt was as if he deserved it. But now, he was utterly terrified. Was he being rejected? He didn't want to get hurt. In all his daydreams he never actually thought about what would happen if Harry rejected his advances. He only ever pictured Harry falling for him and them being together. He had no idea what he was meant to do if all this time, Harry didn't actually want him. Draco bit his lip and looked Harry right in those green eyes that he found himself thinking to be so pretty.

"Draco, I like you." Harry didn't even register that he was speaking until he heard his own words floating through the air. He hid his cringe and went with it. "I like you, and from what I've gathered, I think you fancy me as well?"

This wasn't going at all how Draco imagined it, but he kept his caution. He didn't let himself get hopeful. Instead, he only gave a slow nod. "I do."

Harry nodded in return, processing the information. He very quickly came to realize that he didn't have any plan as to where this conversation was going. After a moment to think, he found his words. "I want to be with you Draco, I really do. But I'm not ready for that. I'm telling you this because you deserve the truth. I also want you to know that this isn't me rejecting you. It isn't like that at all. I just need a bit of time."

Now Draco was hopeful. He felt his back straighten and he fought off a smile as it wasn't appropriate for such a serious moment. If Harry needed time then he could very much respect that. He was okay with waiting. It wasn't as if there was anyone else he could pursue. He didn't doubt that a few weeks ago, Harry wouldn't have minded if Draco saw someone else. Even though most couples with an arranged marriage didn't mind making it work, many were in a silent agreement that after a child or two, they would remained married but see other people. That sort of arrangement was once a possibility, but now, he couldn't do it.

The blonde's silence prompted Harry to continue, but he could see the other's lifted spirits. "For starts, I have a lot going on at work. I need to get through a few things before I can give you the attention and time you deserve. I also need to work on myself a bit. I'm not saying I have to fill every hole and pick up every broken piece, that just isn't realistic. I'll never be completely healed and that's okay. I just need to figure out how to leave most of my baggage in the past. I still have bridges to burn. If I were to be with you, I need to be someone who can dedicate more time and energy than what I have, and I need to learn to take care of myself before I can take care of you too."

Draco nodded, taking it all in. Part of him was honored. Harry, it seemed, wanted to get better for him. He wanted to get better so they could be together. But there was a dull ache in his heart from their inability to be together now, though he was hopeful that they would be, one day. He took a shaky breath and gave a small nod, "I can wait, Harry. It's okay."

He gave a soft smile. "Thank you for understanding. I really don't need a lot of time. Before February, I promise."

The blonde couldn't help but to let out a small chuckle. "It's really okay. Take all the time you need. And thank you for deciding to wait. I can tell how important this is to you and I'm honestly flattered."

Harry glanced up at the mistletoe and gave an awkward laugh. "I suppose I owe you a kiss." He joked since he wasn't comfortable with doing it now.

Draco understood and put on a sly smirk. "I can wait."

Something about that only made Harry's heart beat faster. He wanted to have Draco. He wanted to be selfish and take it all, but that wouldn't be fair to the other. Draco deserved someone better. So Harry let go, and everything he wanted walked away.

He was left in the Floo, watching Draco go off to his room to put his things away. He didn't see the tear that rolled down Draco's cheek, and Draco didn't notice either until it wet his lips. He touched his face and quickly closed the door for fear of being seen. He looked at the droplet on his hand and was utterly confused. He didn't understand why he was tearing up. He shouldn't be sad. There was nothing to be sad about. He should be happy. Harry offered a relationship with only a small time constraint. He was being handed over everything he wanted, but there was still something so sad and hurtful to have the thing his heart desired held just outside of his grasp. He had to wait and time changes things. It changes people, situations, and feelings. Perhaps, he was scared that Harry would come to see he didn't really want Draco, or maybe Draco would come to realize that and have to tell Harry some hideous truth. He shouldn't hope to know what the future held, yet here he stood, pining over it.

Draco took a deep breath and tried to calm down, telling himself that there was nothing wrong. That he would be okay. He told himself a hundred times that no matter what happened, he and Harry would be okay. He pushed his own feelings aside and basked in an aura of gratefulness that he created for himself. In his head he went over all the ways this was a good thing. He reminded himself of how good this would be for him. He told himself time and time again, but he was still sad.

He ended up flopping down on his bed. He was in desperate need of a pick-me-up. A hand reached to his nightstand and he turned his head to try to fine something nice. He considered some of the shorter and sweeter stories, but somehow, he ended up holding his book of erotica. He picked up where he left off, about to start a story about a genie who only granted wishes related to sex. He made it three pages in before the genie's sensual offers sounded off in Harry's voice, dancing around his mind and taunting him. He let out a whine and closed the book. This very obviously wasn't the kind of trouble his could soothe with a quick wank, though he wished it was.

Instead, his mind stayed on the stories that he loved, but rather than reading he was much more concerned with writing. He took a moment to slowly get up before he pulled out a piece of parchment and one of the pens that Harry had given him. He ended up making a list of all the things in his stories that he didn't like so he could avoid them. Another piece of parchment came out and he figured out everything about his characters. Their full names, jobs, friends, family, and a very brief background. It wasn't much, but it was a start. After about an hour he put his pen down and let out a dry laugh. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was trying to block out his sadness and heartbreak with romance, but he knew reading wasn't enough, so he was making his own. Part of him was a bit impressed by his own strange little coping mechanism. He never would have thought of reading and writing as a way to cope or escape, but somehow, he felt a bit better than before.

The little break from reality also gave him mind a chance to clear and he was able to process everything a bit better. He wasn't rejected, he was told his feelings were reciprocated, and he was given a time frame in which he could expect a relationship. Less than two months. Was less than two months really so heartbreaking? Apparently.

He glanced over a the book of erotica and considered picking it back up, when he was struck with a much better idea. He and Harry couldn’t be in a romantic relationship at the moment, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still pursue Harry now that he knew their feelings were mutual.

Draco suddenly stood up, feeling inspired. He went into the bathroom and fixed himself up, running his hands through his hair and fixing his clothes. He smiled at his own reflection before going into the sitting room where Harry was sitting, looking over some parchment that was doubtlessly work-related. Though he didn’t have much of a plan, he confidently strode over and sat beside the man, confused to see relief on the other’s face.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Draco was a bit thrown, though he appreciated the concern.

“I thought I might’ve hurt you, with what I said.”

Draco shook his head. “No. Like I said, I’m flattered and I appreciate it. But that’s actually what I wanted to talk with you about.” He watched Harry put away the parchment and turn to give his full attention. The blonde decided to make this quick since he didn’t want to take up all of Harry’s time, especially when he knew Harry had work to get done. “I’ve been thinking about what you said and I’ve come to realize that since our feelings are mutual, and so long as you’re comfortable with it, there’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to flirt with you. Really, since we plan on getting together, I might as well woo you now.”

"What?" Harry let out a genuine laugh. He had no idea how Draco pulled that idea from anything Harry had said. “You’re going to what?”

"Woo you.” He rolled his eyes a bit at Harry’s genuine shock. “We both like each other and I completely respect that you aren’t ready for a full relationship. But with our feelings in the open I don't see why I can't flirt with you."

Harry's jaw dropped. He’s never been so bluntly desired before. Draco genuinely wanted to flirt with him and he spoke about it so confidently. He almost didn’t know how to react. His cheeks went pink and his eyes flickered away to look at anything else. “Well, sure. That’s okay with me.”

Draco raised an eyebrow as his mouth twisted into a smirk. “Oh, bit innocent are you?”

“Never mind. I’m incapable of coping with this.”

The blonde let out a laugh. “I know you said you’re a virgin but are you really so shy? Does no one hit on you?”

“Not really.” His mind went back to Alex and their encounter for a moment, but he was pulled back into reality by Draco’s soft laugh.

“This ought to be fun.” He said before standing up with a grin. “I’ll leave you to your work, for now. But don’t expect such mercy tomorrow.” He spoke as if he was some monarch making a serious threat about his power and influence. Something about that joking superiority, a tribute to his old attitude, made Harry smile.

“Oh, I’m so concerned.” He joked as he pulled the parchment back out and made a little note where he’d last left off.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “You should be.” Something about it was so calm, and just a bit amused.

That statement sent a shiver down Harry’s spine. He wasn’t worried, per se, but he was a bit intimidated. After all, Draco did have much more experience than him. He had no problem with the idea of flirting back, and maybe making it a fun little thing between them, but he knew he wouldn’t be as good as the other. Nevertheless, he was a bit excited to have Draco on the hunt. He wanted to be pursued.

His satisfied expression fell when he remembered tomorrow was the day of the big Yule Ball at the Ministry. He knew for a fact that Draco wouldn't have forgotten that. Of course, Harry had no problem with Draco flirting with him in public. The more he thought about it, the more amusing it became. He smiled to himself and pulled out his parchment, working again.


	22. Dance With Me

Harry didn't know it was possible to flirt with eyes alone until the next morning. He had just finished cooking when he turned to see Draco was leaning against the kitchen's entrance, staring at him. He was about to say something, but he was chided by the smile that slowly crept onto Draco's face. It was as if he had slowly taken Harry in and liked what he saw. Harry felt oddly exposed, but not in a bad way. He looked away before his cheeks could flush but turned back when he heard a whine come from Draco's direction. "Yes?"

"I like looking at your face. You ruin it when you turn around." Draco explained it as if it was so obvious that Harry should have known, but his playful smile made it feel flirty.

Harry's lips parted and he looked completely shocked. He knew Draco said he was going to flirt, but somehow, he didn't think Draco would go for it at his first chance. He hesitated but turned away. "I'm cooking. You'll survive a minute." He couldn't believe Draco was actually speaking to him and looking at him like that. He made two plates and set them on the table while Draco slowly made his way over to take a seat.

"I like your hair in the mornings. So messy."

Harry knew his cheeks were red and he looked away, glaring at the floor. "I can't believe I agreed to let you do this." He didn't sound the slightest bit regretful, only embarrassed.

"I did warn that I wouldn't go easy on you." The blonde reminded as he picked up his fork and began to eat. He was so smug about it, but not annoyingly so. Only smug enough to make Harry a bit more flustered about the way he was responding to being flirted with. "I really can't believe you don't get hit on more often. You're gorgeous, did you know that?"

He looked up at Draco and seemed shocked all over again, though his cheeks gave away the line's effectiveness by the vibrant shade of pink they became. "Are you serious?"

Draco did a double take before sitting up in his chair. "Are you actually unaware of how good-looking you are?" He sounded just a bit outraged.

"I'm not insecure, Draco. It's just ..... people don't complement me like that. They either complement my part in the war or my politics, anyone interested in my appearance is too starstruck to get their words out."

The blonde raised an eyebrow and grinned, finding the thought to be amusing. "Good. If you didn't know how good you looked I would have had to correct that immediately."

Harry shook his head and sighed, devoting his attentions to his breakfast while Draco spent the rest of the morning throwing out little complements until Harry was pushed to the point of hiding his face behind his hands. "Merlin, I never thought I'd get tired of you saying nice things to me."

Draco only laughed, and the other couldn't help but to think it was cute. "Alright, I'll spare you for now." But when Harry looked back up at him with those clear green eyes and flushed cheeks, he knew he could keep the complements rolling for another half hour if he wanted. His responses were so innocent and unsure. It was adorable.

"Well, I do hope you remembered that today is the Yule Ball at the Ministry."

"Of course I did! I got new robes last week when I was with Blaise in Paris.” He sounded so genuinely excited. He’s always loved balls.

Harry nodded, "I remember you told me about them. You said they're green because that's the color you think looks best on you." The blonde was a bit impressed that Harry remembered. As he went to clean his plate, he heard Harry comment, "I agree." Which gave the blonde pause as he turned to look at the other man. "My, Harry. Did you just flirt with me?"

Harry only rolled his eyes as if Draco was ridiculous for suggesting such a thing.

They both left the kitchen feeling a bit satisfied with themselves. Draco didn't feel compelled to flirt again until they were about to leave for the ball, right after lunch. They got ready after they had eaten, but for Draco, that also involved a long bath beforehand. He bathed, shaved, made sure his hair was silky and smooth, moisturized, and slipped on his dress robes. First came the undershirt, then black trousers, a white button-up, a black tie, and his long dark green robes that had a few intricate patterns carved in by a thin pastel green. He then spent the next while making sure his hair was perfect.

“Draco, c’mon. You’ve taking forever! You’re worse than a girl!” Harry called out from the sitting room, where he had thrown himself across the sofa, waiting.

“I’m coming!” The blonde called back as he finished fixing his hair and put on his favorite French cologne.

There, he saw Harry laying across the sofa with one knee raised and the other hanging off the edge. A hand was behind his head and the other rested on his knee. He was so perfectly posed in a way that added to his strange attire. He had on nice shoes with dark blue dress pants and a matching suit jacket. The trousers were obviously formal but they were more form-fitting than Draco was used to seeing. Tucked in the front of those pants was a black button-up with a few large and colorful flowers on the front, but the top two buttons were undone. Everything fit him very well and the way he was laying caused a bit of a stretch in his crotch while pulling the top of his shirt even further apart. Draco’s eyes drifted across his body, taking in every inch with a small grin. “Do we really have to go? I wouldn’t mind staying here, alone, with you.” He winked.

Harry rolled off the sofa before he could show his embarrassment. “That was so hilarious I forgot to laugh.” He mumbled as he stepped into the Floo, Draco following behind. This made two kisses that Harry owed Draco.

They made it to the Ministry and stepped out. Everyone coming in through the Floos headed to a large hall where the ball was being held. The two followed the crowd and without thinking, Harry took a light hold of Draco’s wrist. The blonde raised an eyebrow at the contact, but chose to say nothing. He didn’t want to ruin the moment and make Harry pull away. He knew there was no ulterior motive or intention behind the contact other than preventing them from getting separated. It was a bit sweet, in it’s own way.

The hall was decorated to the nines for Christmas, there were plenty of tables around the dance floor, a bar, and a long buffet of food and drinks. Harry was trying to find the table that Ron, Hermione, Dean, and Seamus were occupying; but he was pulled off course when Draco shouted, “Pansy!” Harry held on as he was pulled through the crowd and to the other side of the room where Pansy had just entered.

“Oh, Pansy, you look wonderful! Who’s husband have you come to steal?” Draco asked as he took in the pink frilly dress she wore. It was very similar to the one she wore to the ball during the Triwizard Tournament.

Pansy only grinned and shrugged. “Oh, perhaps yours.” It was then that she saw what Harry had on. His outfit was very attractive compared to what the other men were wearing. “Keep him close, Draco. You know how these Ministry animals are.” She joked.

Harry was hardly paying attention to their interaction until Pansy threw out her comments. “What?” His voice was strangely hollow, as if someone had punched him in the gut.

She laughed and shook her head. “Is he always like that?”

Draco nodded and let out a sigh. “You have no idea.” He said it as if Harry’s misplaced coyness was somehow tiring to him.

“Not to say I’m unused to you two talking about me, but could you at least do it behind my back?”

They found amusement in his complaint and continued as if he had said nothing at all.

“Come on, Draco. We need to find the table Hermione got for us. We can bring Pansy.” He suggested, a bit nervous. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt highly uncomfortable with where he was and wanted to find his friends and sit down. Of course, it wasn’t due to Draco or Pansy, he just felt really weird. Maybe he did have a problem with crowds? Or maybe it was the loud music? He wasn’t sure but it felt like shopping for Christmas decorations all over again.

Draco and Pansy followed him as they all searched for Harry’s friends. He grew a bit frantic as time dragged on, but they found them after a few minutes. He felt so relieved when he saw Hermione talking to Dean and looking around for them. Harry sped up and hurried to the table, taking a seat beside Ron. Draco and Pansy sat next to Harry, leaving a space between Pansy and Seamus. They all greeted Draco and Pansy as if they were old friends rather than enemies. It was a sort of warming moment and he knew that everyone at the table appreciated how welcoming the greetings were.

“Those clothes fit you, mate?” Ron teased with a small smile. He honestly wasn’t sure how to react to Harry wearing such fitting clothes. He wasn’t used to it for starts.

Harry only raised an eyebrow. He knew he looked good. His collarbones and the very top of his chest were on display from the undone shirt buttons, the curve of his waist was accentuated by his thin suit jacket, the way he tucked his shirt made him seem slim while showing off the shape of the swells of muscle on his torso, his legs seemed longer, and the muscles on his thighs were ever-so-slightly noticeable. His hair was messy enough to be sexy without looking like he didn’t take care of his hair, wild curls and waves giving it personality. But he was most proud of the dark stubble that ended just after wrapping under his jawline. “Says the man who wore a dress to Yule in Hogwa-”

“It wasn’t a dress!” Ron defended, still embarrassed by the robes he was made to wear in fourth year.

He gave a small smile and tilted his head. “It wasn’t very stylish to say the least.”

“And this is? Harry, you look like all you do is laze about, drink, and fool around.”

Harry only shrugged at that. “I look like pleasure. It wasn’t an accident and I like it.”

“N-No, I didn’t mean to say you look bad.” Ron was quick to correct himself. It was hard to explain what he saw when he knew he and Harry weren’t raised the same way. He was used to more conservative clothing, but here Harry was with something very different. He wasn’t sure how to explain himself and he felt like an ass for having tried.

Harry shook his head. “I know what you meant, Ron, this isn’t normal for Wizarding society. But I’m happy with how I look, and really, if you think about it, you did technically complement my appearance.” He patted Ron on the arm, a bit playfully. “I’m not offended, mate. I get it.”

Ron nodded and they went back to the conversations that were drifting around the table. Hermione, Dean, and Pansy were locked in a discussion on electricity as Pansy had to know how to get Muggle Christmas lights to work, and Draco and Seamus were going on about the book they had been planning. Ron and Harry exchanged a glance as they realized they didn’t quite fit into either conversation and silently agreed to go get some food.

Their time away from the table was meant to be brief. It was only suppose to last a few minutes tops. But things tended not to work out in their favor. For starts, Harry ended up bombarded by a small group of three women and a man, all complementing how wonderful he looked and asking about his strange clothes.

“Is that really what Muggles wear nowadays?”

“It looks wonderful on you, especially the trousers. I love that color.”

“Wonderful style, really. It makes your legs look so long, and your jacket fits your shape perfectly.”

“Your shirt looks wonderful, I love the few large flowers on the front. I think the patterns covered in the same tiny flowers are so hideous and old. My nan wouldn’t even wear them.”

There was a hunger in their eyes that stemmed from hollow hearts. He knew exactly what they wanted from the moment they approached. They wanted to roll around in bed, spend a fraction of his fortune, and then move on when someone else got more famous and even richer than him. He gave a polite smile and gave a brief comment about where he got his clothes, but before he could get past them, a journalist approached and echoed the questions about his clothes. Inside the venue, only a few journalists were allowed and they mostly followed fashion and gossip, no one wanted politics at a holiday event. He gave him the same brief answers he had given the group that stopped him and then excused himself to finally get some food.

While he stood at the table, picking a few small things, he was amused to watch Ron try to get away from a journalist who had stopped him to ask about his relationship with Hermione. Harry let out a soft chuckle and only waved at his trapped friend with a grin. It was a bit funny.

He intended to go free Ron, but he was stopped once more by a fellow he recognized from Wizengamot.

“Ah, here he is. Potter, won’t you tell these blokes that this media nonsense is already over. I doubt Pawk was behind the slight on Crow’s reputation, and even if she was, it’s over now.” The man was confident that he was right.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by another man. “It’s Voldemort all over again, but in the opposite direction! Her and her followers will continue this media warfare and she’ll become just like that villain.” Harry silently estimated it would be less than a decade before the rude man gave up politics and could be replaced by someone who wasn’t so ersatz.

The original man who pulled Harry aside only made an awkward face. “What happened with Crow was a retaliation to a vastly overdramatic and biased analysis of her unreleased bill, and it was far too experienced of a move. Pawk couldn’t have been responsible.”

“Bollocks! All those evils trying to rob us of our freedom! Just like a cheesy young adult novel. Aren’t I right, Potter?” He seemed to be implying that Harry, as a young person, should understand and agree. In some strange way, Harry was amused by how desperate everyone was. He knew he was still a prominent figure due to the war and his takeover of Wizengamot, but he didn't think he was really that important. The longer he turned the idea over in his mind, the more he understood. He didn't know any of these people. In wizard society, they were nameless and faceless. But Harry, everyone knew him. They were desperate to impress to gain any ounce of friendship, support, and notoriety. It was kind of sad. Part of him didn't understand what they saw in him, but when he looked at things from their perspective, he understood that no matter what he did, they would always idolize him because of his part in the war. Voldemort had the government and the media. If not for Harry, he would have won.

“You dolt! Didn’t you read the interview Potter gave only a few days ago about his support for Pawk?” A woman in the group harshly whispered to the man that was so sure Pawk was evil. It made the man’s eyes widened and his face was drained from shock.

Harry knew it was dangerous to reveal he might have had something to do with it. Letting others know of your power makes you a target, but he couldn't resist. "I actually prefer the classics where there are no true heroes or villains, just beings with differing ideologies. I get tired of good and evil fighting over the end of a world. I’d rather be forced to pick the lesser of two evils.” He was entering dangerous territory. He could tell by the confused and enraptured expressions around himself. The man who disliked Pawk stiffened when Harry took a step towards him, but Harry remained relaxed and open, which was even more intimidating than if he had tried to act tough. “Let me tell you a secret that the war and the classics taught me: You don't always need a hero to defeat a villain, sometimes, to beat a monster, you need a bigger monster."

He left them with the realization that he was responsible for outing Crow, but they’d never be able to prove it, and thus, the knowledge was useless to them. All it could do was scare them. So long as he didn’t scare too many people, fear could be a very useful tactic in the chess game he worked in. A bit of fear could make things go his way. Too much fear, however, leads to revolution, and that is never good in such a delicate game. The smallest uprising can be the drop in the ocean that creates a tsunami from it’s ripples. Too much fear in too many people could upend everything he’s worked to do. It was a risk he couldn’t take.

Here he had every important politician moving around him like planets around the sun, trying so hard to impress. As he walked, he was stopped over and over by people who wanted to shake hands and kiss his arse in hopes that he might remember their name or face. Everyone wanted a piece of him. Everyone wanted something. An alliance, agreement, support, money, a night in bed, a relationship, some even wanted to do favors for him in hopes that they could make themselves useful to such an important person. It was just like Versailles, where nobles once paid for the honor of acting as servants to the king only so they could whisper in his ear. But Harry had no interest in being the benevolent king everyone saw him as.

Harry finally took his seat by Draco twenty minutes after he had originally gotten up to get food. He gave a sheepish smile and said, “That took a bit longer than expected.”

“Quite.” Draco agreed. “Seems like everyone had something to say to you. Eager to touch you too. That’s not even mentioning the way the entire room has look you up and down, twice.” Draco was not jealous. He never got jealous. He is not a jealous person. But this was different. He saw Harry as his and Draco Malfoy did not share. Ever. The insecurity came from the fact that Harry wasn’t really his, and he was helpless to the attentions Harry got. He couldn’t interrupt the people who ogled Harry by snogging him in the middle of the room. There was a stinging in his chest and he could do nothing to remedy it. “Are you hungry, Pansy?” He asked as he turned to her.

She wasn’t hungry, not in the slightest. “Famished.”

“Let’s get food.”

With that, the two left.

"Wait, Draco. I forgot to get a drink could y-" He cut himself off as Draco had already walked away. He didn't want to get up again and risk being stopped by another slew of people. People were tiring. Even though he knew he hadn't really done anything wrong, he couldn't help but to feel as if he did. Maybe he shouldn't have worn this outfit, or perhaps he should have been a bit more aggressive in getting out of conversations. His mood soured a bit but he very quickly understood that it wasn't his fault.

The entire table saw the way Draco displayed his jealousy and were immediately drawn in by all it implied. It implied that Draco had some sort of pre-established claim over Harry that went beyond a loveless marriage contract.

“What exactly was that about?” Hermione asked as all eyes turned to Harry, silently echoing the question.

“Well, I suppose it started on Friday, when the thing with the Black properties happened.” That got a nod from Ron and Hermione, who knew about the situation in general, although they were unaware of what happened afterwards.

“Narcissa willed some properties for Draco, but they had to be approved of by me because of the contract.” He then realized most of the people at the table didn’t know about the details, so he elaborated a bit. “The contract’s really insane and was intended to give plenty of room for abuse. I really do believed Lucius wanted me to still be angry and to hurt Draco. It’s made to make Draco seem more like my property than my husband, I have control over everything except his vault. That’s the only part of his life that he controls anymore. But beyond that, I approved of everything and I didn’t even look at the properties. Draco was so upset and embarrassed because our contract had to be explained in front of everyone there. He kept telling them to just do it and to not bring me in, because if I didn’t like it I could have it changed later, but it was against policy and they had to settle it then. He was crying and I couldn’t take it. He’s been a bit stressed lately for a lot of reasons and I knew he needed a break. So I asked him to run away with me, just for the weekend, and he said yes. He chose to go to the Malfoy vacation home in rural France. We did a lot of sledding. Uhm. I also came to the realization that I like him. I fancy him.” A grin slipped onto his face when he said that, showing how the thought still made him feel so happy. “We ended up having a conversation about it when he came back. I told him I wasn’t ready for a relationship, which I’m not. I’m not in a good place. But I told him that I’d like to try before February. I just need a little time. So, uhm. Draco’s been ..... hitting on me, I suppose. He does it quite a lot now. I guess he might have been upset because we’re kind of together. For real. But he can't really stop other people from trying.”

Harry was a bit shocked to see that all his friends seemed excited by the idea of he and Draco finally being together. He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was used to things not being so easy. Hermione was elated that their marriage might lead day be real, Seamus revealed that Draco had once mentioned his feelings and he’d been rooting for them ever since, Dean was congratulatory, and all Ron said was, “Shite, now you might really be married before I am.”

“It isn’t a competition.” Harry laughed.

“Not officially.” Ron spoke as if they were in total agreement that this was, in fact, a competition.

Harry only rolled his eyes. “Right, then you’d better look into rings. Hermione’s a size six.”

Now, Ron lost his amusement and looked absolutely bewildered. “How did you know that?”

“Because I’m a size nine and last year I tried on one of Hermione’s rings. Also, I asked.”

Ron scoffed, about to say something snarky until another question came forth. “How do you know your ring size?”

Draco and Pansy returned before Harry could answer and the blonde wordlessly set a goblet of wine before Harry. It brought a small smile to hid face and he decided to make a bold move. Draco picked up his fork with his right hand and Harry grabbed his left, interlacing their fingers. Harry acted as if the handholding meant nothing at all and continued his conversation, “Because I’ve been inside a jewelers before and I asked.”

Draco’s head snapped to look at Harry with wide eyes and pink cheeks. He may be a flirt, but he was slightly less confident in making such bold moves when it came to the more romantic side of things. His physical boldness really only ever shone in the bedroom. He looked around the table to see a few surprise expressions, but no one was as surprised as him, which told him that they knew of he and Harry’s arrangement. He accepted the handholding and began to eat, quickly losing any trace of shock.

Conversation and laughs filled the table as they ate and drank. It was fun and light, a sharp contrast to how most spent the evening. The older members of the Ministry had come to market themselves and network. They were miserable and stressed. But not Harry, his friends, and the younger Ministry workers. They were all so relaxed, natural, open, and easy. The aura around them was calm and fun. They were openly enjoying themselves, entirely indifferent to the tense socialites that worked around them. They had a bubble of sunshine that others could only observe.

It looked at if Harry wasn’t marketing himself, but he was. Everyone is attracted to pleasure. Whether it come from money, relaxation, or sex, everyone wants to feel good. The appeal of sin is that one gains pleasure without a price, and that was the brand Harry was displaying for himself. He laughed and sat around in leisure, he dressed like hedonism, and everyone was aware that he had a small fortune. His time wasn’t taken up by work or chores, he was available and lived in pleasure. He was pleasure personified, and that’s what made the political servants around him bask in the glow of the perceived king in Versailles.

The night marched on while good times rolled. After the conversation had died down a bit, Hermione had a very easy time convincing Ron to dance with her. He’s been dying to ever since he messed up his chance at the Yule Ball in fourth year. After that, it was only natural that Dean stand and ask Seamus to dance with him. Although Ron and Hermione were average dancers and could handle a simple waltz, Dean and Seamus were both absolutely terrible. They giggled on the dance floor as they tripped over each other and slowly found a simple rhythm. Harry was surprised to see Dean was the one with his hands positioned in the passive role of the dance, but then again, if Harry were in his place he’d also let Seamus lead rather than trying to control the lad.

With that, Harry, Draco, and Pansy were the only ones left at the table. A few tried to come over and assert themselves in the empty seats to try to talk to Harry, but he kept his back to them and absorbed himself in Pansy’s shy confession of meeting an interesting man in Wizengamot.

“His name is Alec, Alec Fick. He's so sweet and he has the most gorgeous hair!" She gushed.

Harry, meanwhile, recognized the name and couldn't help but to grin. Alec was one of the newer members of Wizengamot. He was intended to be the head of the Department for People Afflicted with Lycanthrope, as he is one. His gorgeous hair happens to be a thick collection of dreadlocks, and in all honestly, Harry completely agreed. If he was single he'd probably go after the lad. Harry's eyes scanned the room and he saw Alec with a few of his friends, talking by the bar. "Well, Alec happens to be right over there, and it looks like he came alone, if you'd like to go talk to him." He encouraged.

Excitement flashed in Draco's eyes as he took in the man and then turned to Pansy. "You have to get with him. Pansy, he's gorgeous. You have to be with him."

"Yea, but my parents would probably disown me if I did. He isn't pureblood, and he's lycanthrope." She seemed a mix of worried and disappointed in the way her parents would probably react.

"Perhaps. But you have a job, you're making your own money, and you're getting your own flat after Christmas yea? You don't need them. It'll hurt and it won't be easy, but there's no point in being around people who want to control you."

Pansy sighed at her friend's words, knowing he was right.

"And your parents don't have to know. Not now, at least. Who you talk to at a little Ministry party is hardly their concern."

She took a deep breath and looked over at Alec again, but this time, he caught her eye and smiled, waving her over. "Oh." She said softly before standing up and wiping the surprised expression off of her face. "I suppose I should go over there. Wish me luck."

The two gave her a nod as she went off. Now, it was only Harry and Draco. They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, but they both wanted conversation. A somewhat familiar holiday song came on and a grin spread across Harry's face. He felt brave and held out his hand, "Dance with me."

Draco looked at him with a shocked expression and flushed cheeks. "In front of all these people, including the press?" It wasn't very wise and they both knew this, but somehow, neither cared.

"I don't care if people talk." Harry said with a shrug, having already made his decision. He was going to dance with Draco, even though it had been a while since he last danced. He figured he would eventually find his rhythm.

"They will. A lot." His eyes glanced around to the few members of the press that were present. "We'll probably make the front page of The Daily Prophet."

A playful grin spread across Harry's face and demanded adventure. "Promise?" He wasn't giving this up.

Draco gave his last piece of resistance. "You can't be serious."

"Scared, Malfoy?"

"You wish."

Draco grabbed Harry's hand and all but pulled him onto the dance floor. He whirled around and set a hand on Harry's waist, putting their arms in the appropriate position for the dance.

Harry's face flushed as he set his hand on Draco's shoulder. "Why do I have to be the girl?"

"You aren't being the girl, you just aren't leading." The blonde corrected before whisking Harry off.

Of all possible responses, Harry actually let out a gasp and quickly moved his feet to keep up with Draco's more experienced movements. It only took a few turns for Draco to see how thrown-off Harry was, and he slowed the dance. "Better?"

Harry only nodded, far too embarrassed to speak. His chest was lighting up with excitement and his heart raced from to their closeness. Harry could feel warmth radiating off of Draco and he could smell the other's cologne. That alone shot his nerves and stirred up a thrill within himself that he hadn't felt in a long time. His body was filled with sparks and he could feel the way his own heart pounded inside of his chest. For some mortifying reason he wanted to take deeper breaths, he wanted to take in the smell of Draco's pompous French cologne that he used to hate so much. But now, the hints of rose oil and lemongrass made him feel like his legs could give out at any moment.

But beyond Draco's warmth, Harry could feel the blonde's collarbone under his hand, the expensive fabric of his robes, and most of all, the soft and steady hand that held his. It was all so strong and steady. He's never been so attracted to someone before. Never in his life has Harry wanted to bite another human before, but he had to feel the shoulder that he rested his hand on, between his teeth.

Dancing isn't sexual, he shouldn't be thinking these things. But he was. His throat was suddenly dry and he was hit with the sudden fear that his palms might be sweaty. Was his hand shaking? It was all almost overwhelming. His eyes rested on the floor, too nervous to actually look the blonde in his eyes. He couldn't believe how close Draco's chest was. If he wanted, he could so easily rest his head there, or perhaps, on Draco's shoulder. It was so intimate and close. Now, at the worst time possible, he kind of had to pee. But he didn't want to leave. Draco's closeness aroused him, it made him feel warmer, everything felt so right and good.

A smile crept onto his face from how much he loved every second of it.

Draco, meanwhile, was amused by the shift in Harry's mannerisms. He was suddenly very shy, quiet, but happy. He bit his lip as his own smile spread across his face. He was overjoyed to have Harry in his arms and to be able to see how much the other enjoyed it. Harry's smile, adverted eyes, soft grip, and slightly off-beat footwork was all because of him. Harry was happy because of him. His happiness came from Draco. The feeling was overwhelming. Excitement and nerves bubbled up in his chest as he brought Harry along in their dance, finally taking the lead. In his newfound bout of confidence, he decided to tease a bit. "What ever happened to that Gryffindor bravery?"

"I just, I. Uhm. I didn't think it through this far." His voice was soft and he ducked his head a bit, feeling a mix of joy and meekness.

The blonde knew the moment was much too intimate for eye contact. He knew Harry probably felt a bit overwhelmed, so he made a small suggestion to help make Harry a bit more comfortable. "Put your head on my shoulder."

That made Harry quickly move to look Draco in the eyes. "What?" The shock of the suggestion wore off when he saw how close Draco's bluish-grey eyes and satisfied smile were. His own lips parted as his eyes glanced to the stretched ones before him. They were so close and he wanted to. But he couldn't. Not yet.

"You heard me." Draco couldn't help himself anymore. Harry might be best at moving their physical romance when things were light or sweet, but when things got intimate, this was Draco's territory. This was Draco's element. He knew exactly what he was doing and he was so proud of it. He felt like he was in control, after having every ounce of it ripped away by the past few months of his life. This. Their dance. Harry's blush. He could control this. It was as sweet as peach wine.

Harry hesitated for a moment but couldn't resist the chance he'd been given. He let his head fall to Draco's shoulder and a grin spread across his face. They stepped closer so the new position was more comfortable. He swore his heart pounded even faster as their torsos just barely touched. Draco playfully squeezed his hand and Harry squeezed back. He couldn't hold back the small laugh that came out. He was so unbelievably happy.

Neither remembered the paparazzi, nor did they notice the way the room paused to watch them. They were the poster boys of opposite sides of the war, and right when everyone thought they might be friends, they went and did something as big as this. There, for everyone to see, they'd shed their skin, and became nothing more than two souls, intertwined in dance. Something much stronger than friendship, or even a simple crush, radiated off of them both. If they could they would dance forever.

Harry's hand shifted to get a better grip on Draco's shoulder as his elbow came to rest on the blonde's chest. They had somehow become pressed against each other and the hand that once rested on his waist had become an arm that wrapped around him and kept him close. This was no longer a dance, they were embracing.

There was the distant sound of cameras flashing, but it all felt so far away. The only thing they were aware of beyond the way they were flooded by the presence of the other was the music that swirled around the room and came to envelop them in an intimate atmosphere. There were no eggshells to walk on or boundaries to mind. Nothing mattered anymore and their previous arrangement was forgotten.

Harry’s face was originally turned away from Draco and his eyes rested on the floor. As he got more comfortable he felt his heart slow down, and his nerves were melted away by Draco’s warmth. He was a bit shy but he turned his head to face Draco, his forehead nearly touching the other’s neck. He tilted his head back so his gaze met the pale flesh above the collar of Draco's robes. The robes felt like velvet under his cheek and were a bit plush. He could also feel Draco's collarbone under his cheek and somehow, it was attractive. Harry's never had any sort of attraction to collarbones until now. His lungs were filled with rose oil and lemongrass, but he also noted hints of oranges. It was so sweet and reminded him of the colors of his old room, the one that Draco now inhabited. It all reminded him of nature. The place that gave him so much comfort.

Draco found himself grinning as he danced with Harry. This was the closest to holding Harry he's ever come. It was so warm and sent a thrill through his body. He could feel the soft and rolling muscles on Harry's torso pressed against his thinner and more lithe figure. Harry's body against his felt even better than he had imagined. He already knew the feeling of Harry against him was going into his memory, only to resurface late at night when he needs to get off. When he felt Harry turn his head to face him, smiling wasn’t enough to express his joy. He let out a small chuckle and commented, “If you keep acting so domestic, people might think you fancy me.” He was entirely incapable of stopping himself from teasing Harry.

Harry only crinkled his nose in displeasure. “Don’t talk about other people. I don’t care about them. I don’t want to think about them.”

“Why is that?” He looked down and saw that Harry had his eyes closed with his lips just slightly parted. It was so beautiful. He looked so relaxed and peaceful, as if he were sleeping. There was also a natural scent to him. Harry didn’t put on any cologne and as a result, he smelt so human and real. There was nothing flowery or masculine to try to hide himself. He just smelt like Harry, and Draco couldn’t get enough.

“This is all that matters to me.” He didn’t quite have the words to express what he thought and felt, but what he did come up with was the most accurate thing he could muster. Really, he didn’t want to think at all. His mind was empty of anything that wasn’t Draco. There wasn’t a world beyond them. They were dancing in a room of nameless and faceless people who didn’t matter, the music sheltered them from it all, and the moon held it all together. “Oh.” Harry’s voice pierced the air between them. He almost sounded sad. “I don’t want the sun to rise tomorrow. I just want to exist here, forever.” The thought of tomorrow made him miserable and it made the hand on Draco’s shoulder slide further to wrap his arm around the blonde’s neck. “Can’t we stay like this and just forget the world?”

“I would if you asked me to.” Draco was nearly breathless. He closed his own eyes and felt himself almost tear up. Never in his life has he felt so unconditionally loved, and he didn’t even have to do anything for it. He didn’t have to impress, act a certain way, or believe certain things like he did with his father. He didn’t have to work to be loved and his heart almost couldn’t handle that. It hurt in the sweetest way. He also stopped feel guilty for all the things he’d done in the past. He didn’t just feel loved, but he also felt forgiven. For this brief moment of his life, he felt like everything was okay. He knew that nothing would be the same after this.

Harry felt similarly. He didn’t have to cook or clean for positive attention, he didn’t have to walk on eggshells or beg for love. He was just so openly and unconditionally loved for the first time in his life. He couldn’t find the words to describe how he felt, so he let go of Draco’s hand and wrapped both of his arms around the other’s neck. The blonde did the same in adding his newly freed arm with the other that was already resting around Harry’s waist. They held each other as they slowly swayed and turned circles to the music.

Besides feeling loved, they were both sad. Neither wanted their dance to stop, nor did they want tomorrow to come. They wanted this one moment to go on endlessly. In it, they felt no hunger, weariness, guilt, or pain. Their bodies had forgone need and they were only their hearts.

To their utter disappointment, however, the dance did have to end. But it went on and on until the ball was over. They held hands on their walk to the Floo, which seemed to take forever. They did everything to prolong the arrival of tomorrow. When they appeared back home, Harry made the very soft comment that he now owed Draco three kisses. Since it was already late, they very hesitantly said goodnight and went to bed. But Harry’s mind lingered on his idea from two days ago, of cuddling with Draco. As unwise as it was he found himself a slave to temptation. Had Draco asked, he wouldn’t have said no. He could only manage to keep himself in his room and lay down for the night.

Longing never felt so sweet.


	23. Gingerbread

The night of the Yule Ball gave Draco the best wank of his life. He had the feeling of Harry’s torso against his memorized as he laid back and imagined the man on top of him, as if it was Harry’s hand instead of his own. Given that Harry’s room was even closer here than at the Malfoy house in France, he managed to stay quiet besides a few gasps, but when he finally came, he bit the side of his thumb and tried to muffle his own whines and groans. It was quite difficult, but he managed.

The next day, Harry and Draco made the cover of The Daily Prophet, as promised. Harry actually cut out a picture of them dancing and put it beside his bed. Of course, Draco noticed the newspaper missing it’s photo when he saw it in the bin, but he didn’t say anything. He was quite flattered by it and thought it was incredibly sweet of him. As time went on, they came to make the cover of The Daily Prophet four days in a row. The stories about them were wild as they had nothing but a dance to go off of. Witches Weekly believed that the two were in a relationship, The Quibbler tried to stay unbiased and only reported on what could be observed, but The Daily Prophet went wild each day. On the first day, they reported the dance, then it became a story of Draco having Harry under Amortentia, then it was the other way around, and by day four it was about Harry using Draco as some sort of political plot to further his own agenda. But somehow, neither cared, and actually found it to be quite hilarious.

Harry spent all of Christmas Eve calling Draco “my political ploy”, much to the blonde’s annoyance.

“Harry, you git. You said we were going to make a gingerbread house.” He complained as he leaned against the kitchen counter. “If you keep calling me that I’ll figure it out on my own and eat it by myself.”

Harry grinned. “Apologies, I’ll stop.” Though he wasn’t really sorry. “I can’t believe you’ve never made a gingerbread house before.”

Draco only shrugged. “That was always the job of the house elves.” He mumbled the sentence, knowing they were a bit of a touchy topic for Harry given his friendship with Dobby.

“Funny, I was never allowed to.” Harry silently finished pulling out the supplies. “I bought a kit to make one yourself because I don’t have the patience to bake the gingerbread.”

“Neither do I.” He grumbled his words as if the idea of being patient was that displeasing to him. Though he did enjoy these little things that they had in common.

Harry let out a chuckle and handed Draco a small baggie full of the gingerbread pieces. “Alright. Step one: assemble the houses. The icing is meant to act as a glue.” He said as he also passed over Draco’s icing.

The blonde began pulling out the pieces and set it out on the table, where Harry joined him after gathering his own supplies. “Right. Assemblage. Shouldn’t be too hard.” He managed to get the walls set up on the gingerbread floor. When he glanced over, he saw that Harry was already sticking on the chimney. “How are you so far ahead?”

Harry glanced up and saw Draco’s walls were slipping. “Oh, be careful th-” He cut himself off with a laugh as the blonde’s house fell. “Want me to help?”

“I’ve got it. I think I just used too much icing.”

“I can fix that.” Harry began dipping his fingers in the rubble of the gingerbread house and scooped up the icing, sucking it off his fingers. His hand was slapped away when he reached back for more.

“I don’t want remnants of your saliva on my house, you brute.” He had no idea where the name calling was coming from, but it made Harry laugh, so he went with it. The blonde finished wiping up his own icing and went back in with thinner layers, satisfied to see his walls were finally sticking. But that gave Harry enough time to cover his roof in icing as if it were snow, and iced the windows. “How are you so fast?!” Not to say this was a competition, but it was most definitely a competition and Draco had to win.

Harry looked up and gave a completely deadpanned answer. “Because I’m perfect.”

The blonde raised an eyebrow before letting a satisfied look settle over his face. “Good with your hands, yea?” He bit his lip, enjoying the way the other turned red and looked away. “That’s what I thought.”

Harry sneered to himself and began adding candies to decorate his house. He mostly just used sprinkles since he didn’t really like the gummy candies that came with the set. He also went to the fridge and got a bar of chocolate, breaking off pieces to set on the roof of his house like shingles.

Draco let out a laugh at the face the other made. “You might be better at making gingerbread houses, but I’m the superior flirt.”

“My arse.” Harry got a dollop of icing on his fingers and smeared it on Draco’s cheek. He shocked himself a bit by his own actions. He had done it on a whim as a result of a shitty idea, but now, now he was actually acting on his shitty idea. Now he felt like he had to commit to it.

The blonde gasped and he looked at Harry with wide eyes. “Clean it up. Right now.”

Harry only laughed. “Why? I think you look great. It makes for a wonderful pop of color.” He was trying to stall his shitty idea, which was that he would kiss the icing off of the other’s cheek. But now he was too nervous to act on it.

“Clean it up or I will burn all your Christmas presents. I swear I’ll throw them all in the fire.”

“No you won’t.” He saw right through Draco’s bullshit.

“Fine, I won’t. Clean it up or I’ll sneak into your room tonight and shave yo-”

“Calm down, Satan. I’ll clean it up.” Harry interrupted, unwilling to compromise his facial hair over icing. He leaned forward and acted as if he was going to wipe it off with his thumb, but instead, he wrapped his lips around the spot and gave a hardly-noticeable suck in his kiss. Something about their dance last night changed everything. He felt so much more flirty. He also felt as if their previous arrangement didn’t matter anymore.

Draco gasped once more and his cheeks went red as he got up to wipe his cheek off with a tissue. “Ew, your got your slobber on me!” He ignored the fact that he absolutely loved the attention he was given. He looked over to see Harry looked very satisfied with himself and seemed to be enjoying the icing in his mouth. “You blind bastard.”

“I can’t help you taste delicious.” Harry threw out, entirely unsure of where this confidence came from. It somewhat alarmed him since he was usually never this confident about anything romantic or flirty, but here he was, calling Draco delicious.

Draco raised an eyebrow and set his hand on the table, leaning over it to get in Harry’s face, though he wasn’t too close. “First of all, you aren’t allowed to do that above my jaw or below my thighs.” That alone shocked Harry and made his face go red. “Secondly, make a move like that again and you won’t be so virginal for much longer.”

All Harry could do was stare at the other as he sat down and continued to build his gingerbread house with a smug look. The blonde glanced up and tilted his head as he continued. “Don’t try to out-do me, Harry. I can promise you, I’ll always win. In fact,” He grabbed the remainder of Harry’s icing and put it in the fridge. “Since you’re in to icing, I suppose we should save this for February.” The month where Harry and Draco should have just started their relationship.

Harry’s blush spread and he looked away, silently putting sprinkles on his gingerbread house. He was so embarrassed yet so flattered. It was hard for him to even begin to explain the way he felt because he’s never felt this way before. It was so new and exciting. Draco wanted him. Draco physically wanted him, and cared about him, and was interested in him on an emotional level. His lips parted as words hung but never would form. He searched for them as his hands stilled, too focused inside of his mind to bother with the physical world.

The blonde noticed and spared him a few glances. Part of him got worried as he only ever knew Harry to space-out when he was remembering unpleasant things or when he was overwhelmed, and this looked a lot like spacing-out. “Harry? Are you alright?” When the other didn’t respond he asked his question again and took the other’s hand in his.

Harry jumped and looked over at the blonde. “Oh, sorry. What did you say?”

“I asked if you were alright.” He set down the candy in his free hand and focused on the other.

“Yea, I’m fine. I was just thinking.”

“About?”

He looked a little nervous before finally making coy eye contact and saying, “You.”

The blonde let a small smirk take over and he leaned forward. “What about me?” He was ever-so-slightly smug about the answer.

“I’ve never had someone ..... want me, before. I guess I’m still surprised.”

Draco let out a soft chuckle. “Well of course I want you. You’re fit.” He winked.

Harry rolled his eyes and cracked a smile through silent chuckles. “Uhm. I know I said that I wanted to wait for a relationship, but you make that incredibly difficult. I know I should wait, just a bit longer. But falling into your arms feels so easy.”

The blonde smiled to himself and gave a nod. “Is there a particular event that you’re anxious for?” He figured that if he could identity a specific event then he might be able to talk Harry into relaxing about it, or at the very least, it could give him a more precise date.

“I suppose I’m nervous about presenting our department to Wizengamot and about Pawk presenting her bill. I’m mostly worried for her.”

“When does she present?”

“Uhm, January fifteenth.”

Draco nodded and probed even further. “Are you very involved in her bill?”

“Yes. I’ve been gathering votes and keeping positive publicity.”

Draco blinked a few times and realized Harry was much more involved than he thought. “Oh. Wow. Right, then. Anything I could do to help?”

“Not really. I’m in the waiting game right now. When Wizengamot convienes next I’ll have to take any opportunities I can seize.” He wasn’t ready to confess to Draco that he was the one behind the media warfare. “Last week I promised my support on an amendment to strengthen the bill on Lycanthrope in exchange for two votes towards Pawk’s.”

Now the blonde was quite intrigued. Not to say he was attracted to power, but Harry’s influence was quite attractive. It also gave him a strange urge to take him down. Just like with all their schoolyard rivalries, he wanted to beat Harry. He wanted to take the other down and make him feel powerless, he also really hated how easily his mind slipped to sex. “Yea, sounds like you need to focus. Just a few more weeks then.”

“Or, I could just suck it up and be with you now.” He mumbled as he leaned forward to rest his head on the table. He found himself hardly caring about politics when compared to Draco. “Wizengamot is filled with plenty of good people now, I doubt they really need me to stick around after I get my department passed. Maybe I could just leave Wizengamot and focus on that.”

Draco blinked a few times. “Woah, you want to give up politics?”

Harry shrugged. “Kind of. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t walk in thinking it would be easy or fun, but it’s absolutely draining. It reminds me too much of the war. It just isn’t something that I want to do. Maybe I’m just not made for politics. Merlin knows I wasn’t made for the war. I don’t think I belong in government stuff. I’d rather just help children.”

The blonde’s thumb rubbed over the back of Harry’s hand, trying to comfort him. “Well if you aren’t happy with it then there’s no point in doing it. You can stick it out for your department and Pawk’s bill, then you can focus on The Cupboard Project, yea?”

“Yea.” He mumbled his agreement, looking up at Draco from where his head laid on the table. “Stop making me fall for you.”

“I can’t control it.”

“You can. You do it on purpose. You’re evil.” He whined, no longer in the mood for serious conversation.

Draco smirked and his free hand went to finish decorating his gingerbread house. “Of course I am. A pesky Slytherin besting a Gryffindor.”

“I didn’t say you were winning.” He sat up and looked indignant at the implication that he was losing.

The blonde laughed and finished up his decorating. “Oh, I’m not?”

“No. In fact, after the New Year, when the outline of The Cupboard Project is passed, I’m gonna show you how much of a loser you are.” He had absolutely no idea what he was talking about and every ounce of confidence he displayed was entirely false.

“What the hell is that suppose to mean?” He laughed.

“I don’t know.” Harry whined, distressed. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. “Want to get drunk and eat the houses?”

“Sure.” Draco said as he got up and grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge and pulled two glasses from the cabinet. “Start a fire. We can eat in the sitting room and exchange our Christmas Eve presents.” He suggested.

Harry got up with a soft groan and the blonde pretended the sound didn’t give him a rush between his legs. He smirked to himself and tucked the bottle under his arm while he brought out the two glasses. He set it all out on the coffee table before the sofa and then went back to grab their houses. When he returned, the fire was warm and Harry was walking back from his bedroom with a small wrapped gift in his hand.

Draco popped a window out of his gingerbread house and ate it while Harry moved to sit beside him, handing him the small box. He accepted it and eager unwrapped it pulling out a silver necklace with a small lily on it. He grinned and put it on. “Jewelry, Potter?”

Harry reached into the collar of his shirt and pulled out the matching necklace that was tucked in. “Yea. But it’s charmed.” He said, wrapping his hand around the lily on his necklace and squeezing.

The blonde was confused until only a second later, his necklace sent a warm feeling into his chest. He grinned and let out a chuckle.

“That way we can always, uhm.” He realized he didn’t have a non-romantic way to explaining it, so he went with his first instinct. “We can always be together.”

Draco looked absolutely dumbfounded at the explanation. His lips parted in shock and he looked at Harry with such a loving expression. “Have you any idea how much that means to me?”

“I-I don’t suppose I do. But I’d like to.”

Draco reached up and squeezed the necklace, sending warmth through Harry. “You’re so stupid.” There was no doubt that his heart belonged to the other.

Harry let out a laugh. Any insult from Draco only amused him. He thought it was funny because he knew it meant nothing.

“Well. I suppose it’s my turn.” He said as he got up and retrieved his wand from his room. He took his seat on the sofa again and told Harry not to move. The other looked a bit nervous at the request but complied. “Since you refuse to get your eyes checked, I found a spell to match the prescription of your glasses to your eyes.” He waved his wand and recited the spell, making a wispy purple smoke come forth and coat Harry’s glasses. As it evaporated, the other’s vision became clear.

His eyes widened as he looked around the room. Everything was so clear and sharp, rather than the light blur he was used to. It was suddenly so much easier to see and he didn’t have to squint or stare to take in details. He could finally take in features he never could before. The room was almost overwhelming. “Has that pillow always had dots?” He asked as he picked up a throw pillow that was covered in very small dots. He then looked over at Draco and meant to say something, but instead, he froze. “You have gingerbread crumbs on your lip. I can see them.” He had no idea they were there before.

The blonde chuckled and wiped his mouth. “How do I look?” He asked jokingly, not intending on Harry answering.

Harry looked absolutely starstruck. He leaned in a bit closer and looked right into Draco’s eyes, seeing things they weren’t there before. He saw the way the blonde’s eyes seemed to be predominantly grey with strands of blue tuning through them. It wasn’t just one color, but two distinct ones. He had no idea. He also saw little flares of lighter grey, he saw the way Draco’s pupils flickered and then widened from the eye contact. “Your eyes are gorgeous. I had no idea.” He sat back and took in the rest of Draco. His jawline was sharper than he remembered. His eyebrows were composed of thin and individual hairs rather than the blurry blocks of color he was used to seeing. They even had a slight shape to them that he had never noticed before. His chin had a slight cleft in it and his lips were thicker than he thought. They used to sort of blend in to the rest of his face, but now he saw their distinct pink shape. “You’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful and I had no idea.” He was talking without thinking. Had he been giving his words a second thought, he wouldn’t have said any of that.

Draco turned pink and licked his lips, looking away. “Oh.” He wasn’t used to this. Usually, when a man liked him, it was either for his looks or money. Harry had money, and apparently he didn’t even know how good Draco looked until now. So what was left but Draco. Just Draco, and who he was as a person. His heart skipped a beat and he took a sip of wine to try to calm himself.

“I’m sorry. I hope that wasn’t too forward or anything. I’m just ..... I can’t believe it.” He blinked a few times and then cracked a smile. “_You_ fancy _me_.”

Now the blonde scoffed. “Sod off. You’re acting like you have amnesia.”

“I just didn’t realize your beauty shone from the inside, outward.” He watched the other have no response and a smirk took over his features. “I thought you said you’d always win?” He teased.

Draco shook his head. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Potter. Are you trying to lose your virginity?”

Harry didn’t let Draco ruin his confidence. “No. I just don’t remember you being so quiet and passive. Don’t get me wrong, I can work with that. Just isn’t what I expected from you.”

“I’m serious, Potter. One more quip out of you and you’re going to get it. You know I can hold a grudge for a long time. It might be March when I finally get you, maybe even next Christmas.”

“You’re all bark and no bite.”

An excited and wild expression took over Draco’s features, as if the final piece of a grand plan had fallen into place. “You’re gonna get it, Potter. Big time.”

“Oh, I’m so scared.” He popped the door off of Draco’s gingerbread house and ate it.

The blonde’s jaw dropped and he squinted his eyes. “You’re going to regret this.” He took Harry’s door and ate it.

They spent the rest of the night getting drunk, eating gingerbread, and teasing each other. Between the fire, necklaces, and wine, the snow outside meant nothing and the two couldn’t have been warmer in the middle of winter.


	24. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two books mentioned in this chapter are real, check the end notes for links!

Harry woke up with a groan, stretching and listening to his joints pop. He frowned and twisted, letting out a surprised moan when his lower back popped. A sigh left him as he relaxed and tried to fall back asleep.

“If you moan like that every morning there’s no way we could ever share a bed.”

Harry yelped and sat up to see Draco leaning against the wall by his door, holding two cups of hot chocolate. He didn’t bother putting his glasses on and yawned. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Merry Christmas.” Draco shrugged, handing Harry a cup. “I didn’t want to wait for you to wake up but you look really cute when you aren’t talking, so I waited.”

Harry gave him an unamused look but thanked him for the hot chocolate, taking a sip.

“Oh no, thank _you_ for not wearing a shirt to bed.” Draco commented as his eyes were finally able to take in all of Harry. Although somewhat muscular, he lacked definition. He was a bit scrawny with his muscles making themselves softly known, gently rolling above the rest of his flesh. But he was also a bit thicker than when they went to school in Hogwarts, which Draco happily attributed to Harry’s better mental state and his improved eating habits. He was also very delighted to see the bit of dark hair on Harry’s chest and the line from his navel to the hem of his pants. Although he thought Harry was absolutely gorgeous, he couldn’t help but to notice all the scars that littered the man’s body. They made him a bit sad because he knew that although some were from Quidditch, many were from the times he had to fight for his life. He also knew that a few of them were his fault.

Harry rolled his eyes and took another sip of cocoa, looking for his shirt.

“You have big nipples.”

“I’m gonna hex you.” Harry mumbled as he finally pulled a shirt on.

“I think they’re cute.” The blonde shrugged.

“Sod off.” He said as he set the cup on his nightstand and laid back down in bed. “What time is it?”

“Eight.”

“Too early. We don’t have to be anywhere till after lunch. Goodnight.”

Draco sat beside him. “You can’t seriously go back to sleep.”

“I seriously can. It happens to be a talent of mine. Observe.” He said as he turned to his side and closed his eyes. He curled up slightly, laying in the fetal position.

The blonde couldn’t help but to grin. “So are you the big or little spoon?” He thought it was quite adorable that Harry slept all curled up.

“I’d prefer to be a fork.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I don’t want to be a spoon. Period.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Have you never cuddled before?”

“No and I don’t see the appeal.” He insisted as he nuzzled his face deeper into the pillow, unaware of how soft and sweet he looked.

Draco let out a scoff. “How can you not see the appeal?” A smirk took over as he leaned closer, intending on teasing the other. “It’s just like when we danced together at the Ministry, but laying down. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Harry answered with a grunt, not wanting to admit that it did, in fact, sound appealing.

“Oh? Well I can’t help but to notice you’ve cut out a picture of us dancing.” He said as he saw the photo that once graced the cover of The Daily Prophet, sitting on his nightstand. “Bit sentimental for something that apparently has no appeal.” He leaned down and rested his chin on Harry’s side. “I’m willing to bet you also like the fact that I’m taller than you. I really do think you’re the little spoon.”

“Is this because I ate your gingerbread door?” He asked, finally turning to look at Draco with pink cheeks. His morning voice made him sound just a bit whiny and groggy.

The blonde chuckled and looked quite satisfied with himself. “No. This isn’t about the teasing either. I won’t get you back until after we’re together. This is just me being an arse.”

“Well you’re impeccable at it.” He said before taking a deep breath. “Alright, you’ve driven me out of bed. Move your head so I can get up.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I could do for a nice cuddle.” Draco tempted with a quirked eyebrow.

Harry furrowed his own and his cheeks went pink for the second time that morning. “What?”

“You heard me.” He gave a pout. “It’s Christmas, after all. And it isn’t like I can demand Christmas sex, so this is the next best thing. Now take your shirt off.”

For some reason, Harry’s tired mind didn’t question it and he slipped his shirt off, allowing Draco to see that Harry’s blush extended to the tops of his shoulders and chest, all flushed pink.

The blonde gasped with joy, “Oh, you blush everywhere!” He couldn't have been more attracted to Harry. He thought everything about him was charming in its own way.

Harry only whined. “Sod off.” He sat up and leaned back against the headboard. He opened his arms but his eyes remained closed as he was still quite tired.

Draco let out a chuckle and he moved to sit on Harry’s thighs, leaning into his chest. He felt those strong arms wrap around him and an excitement spread through him. “You’re still wearing your necklace.” He commented.

“I don’t wanna take it off.” He mumbled as he unwrapped one arm from around Draco and reached over to get his cocoa. He took a sip and let his head lean back against the wall, unintentionally showing off his neck.

The blonde looked up at the unmarked flesh and put on a soft smirk. In that moment, he decided that one day, he’d make a mess of it.

They laid in silence for a while, just holding each other in Harry’s bed. It felt so relaxing with just a hint of excitement. They enjoyed each other for another half hour before Harry had to pee. Draco let him up and they agreed to meet in the sitting room to finally have their Christmas morning. Draco made even more hot chocolate and entered to see Harry was starting a fire. He sat by the tree with his own cup while setting Harry’s on the floor before him. “Come on, time to open presents.” He tried to hurry Harry along, who only let out a soft and breathy laugh.

When the fire was roaring, Harry grabbed a present that was wrapped fairly-well and handed it to Draco.

The blonde raised an eyebrow and unwrapped it, already able to tell it was likely a book. He opened it to see the image of two men with their chests exposed on the cover. A grin spread across his face as he read the title: _The Soldier’s Scoundrel_ by Cat Sebastian. He turned it over and read the summary, seeing it was about a man from the slums who did as he must to care for his siblings, and a proper retired soldier who was greatly tempted by him. “Oh, is this like an enemies to lovers?” He asked as he turned the book back over, excitement in his eyes. He couldn’t believe Harry actually found him a new book.

“I suppose. I didn’t actually read it.” Harry had never heard the term ‘enemies to lovers’, but it’s definition seemed obvious, and when considering the summary, it was likely.

“Where did you get this? Is this a muggle book?”

“Yea. It’s suppose to be one of the best. I did a bit of research and it seemed to be on everyone’s list of favorites.” Now, by ‘a bit of research’, he really meant that he went to a library, Googled the most popular gay romances, and browsed the first few websites that popped up. But Draco wouldn’t have understood half of that explanation.

“I love it! Oh, I can’t wait to read it.” He then set the book down and reached to pull out a perfectly wrapped gift, handing it to Harry.

He opened it up, a bit excited since he had no idea what Draco might have gotten him. A grey coat was revealed and it brought a small smile to his face. He reached to pull it out of the wrapping but he was surprised by what he felt. “I’ve never felt something so soft.” He pulled it out and wrapped the coat around himself and almost immediately felt warm.

“Nice, isn’t it? It’s made of vicuna; warmest, softest, most expensive fabric in the world.” He said it in a bit of a bragging tone, as if he was immensely proud of what he had bought for Harry.

His jaw dropped and he almost looked concerned. “Draco, how much did you spend on this?”

“Oh, a small fortune.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal.

“You’re absolutely insane.” Harry let out a soft laugh. He’s never owned something so nice before. After a lifetime of hand-me-downs and wrong sizes, he was suddenly gifted with luxury. “I love it. Thank you so much, Draco.”

“We could always up your debt to four kisses and call it even.” The blonde said with a teasing smile. He radiated smugness but Harry was just eating it up.

He rolled his eyes at the suggestion and wrapped his arms around himself. “It’s so warm.”

“I could make it even warmer.” Draco reached up to grip the lily on his necklace, making Harry’s warm up and send a lovely feeling through his body. He felt loved. For the first time in a long time, he felt so unconditionally loved and he basked in it. It was enough to make his cheeks turn red and he looked away. “Cheeky bastard.”

Draco laughed and let go of the necklace when Harry handed him his next present. “Ah, trying to quell my charms with gifts? Smart boy.” Since spending the morning in Harry’s arms he felt so incredibly confident and flirty.

Harry only sipped his hot chocolate. “It’s too early for this.” Really, it was just a lame excuse to try to cope with the way Draco's flirting worked on him.

Draco began unwrapping the present. “I was going to say that you’ve obviously never experienced the joys of morning sex, but I suppose that’s a given.” He spoke in reference to the other’s virginity, making Harry cough in surprise, nearly choking on his hot chocolate. He saw yet another book, but rather than shirtlessness, he was greeted by a man embracing another. _The Doctor’s Discretion_ by EE Ottoman. He looked at the back and read over the plot. A doctor and a retired Navy surgeon in the 1830s, trying to protect a man accused of being transgender. He bit his lip through a grin and looked up at Harry with excited eyes. “For someone who doesn’t read very often, your taste in books is quite impressive.” He said as he set the book atop the other one. He passed Harry a smaller present, though it was a bit thick.

Harry squeezed it in his hand and it felt like a bunch of thin things wrapped together. He opened it and a few packets of seeds fell down. He grinned and saw fruits, vegetables, and flowers for various seasons. “Wonderful.” He commented as he looked through them, reading about which season they’re meant to be planted in and organizing them in little stacks. “This is most of the produce I use anyways, it’ll make shopping much cheaper.” He looked up at Draco and seemed to melt in how much he loved the gift. “I never really had an interest in gardening until I started with my apple tree and flowers. But now, I think I’ll enjoy it very much.” Something about growing and caring for living things really helped him remove himself from the war. The destruction of his past and all the rubble in it’s wake was slowly being embraced by the stems and vines of the seeds he’ll sow, and the darkness will bear flowers. He spent quite a while just staring at the seeds before he seemed to regain himself and handed Draco his last present. Six were under the tree, and only a thin one for Harry remained.

The blonde unwrapped the palm-sized gift to find a box containing silver cufflinks with little snake heads on them. He let out a laugh. “Because I’m Slytherin?”

“I thought it was funny.” He was glad Draco seemed to agree.

Harry opened his last present and his eyes widened when he saw it was a record. _‘Best of ABBA’_. “How did you know I like ABBA? How did you even get this?” He knew there was no way Draco exchanged his money for Muggle currency, ventured into the city, and bought a record.

“I asked Hermione about your taste in music, since we have a record player. She said your favorite bands were ABBA and Queen, old Muggle ones, apparently. She said she could get the record for me, so I gave her the money for it.”

Harry let out a chuckle, joy sparkling in his eyes. “Thank you, Draco.” They hugged, which eventually evolved into Harry pulling the blonde into his lap as they sat on the floor, drinking hot chocolate by the fire. While they sat there, Draco let a finger drift around Harry’s torso, which made the other squirm. “Having fun?”

“I’m responsible for some of these.” There was hardly a trace of emotion in his voice. He said it as if he were simply stating a fact. He almost sounded above it all, as if it didn’t even matter.

“I suppose.” Harry was a bit confused. He couldn’t gauge Draco’s feelings about it, and thus, didn’t know how he should address the comment.

He furrowed his eyebrows, slowly able to identify most of them. He and Harry’s lives had always been intertwined, and thus, he was present for many of them. “I’m so sorry to have marked you in such a terrible way. You shouldn’t have to wear them and be made to remember.”

Harry’s only response was to hold Draco closer, letting his face fall to rest on the other’s head, taking in the scent of expensive shampoo. “You didn’t choose this.” He reminded, still believing with the faith of a devotee, naïve as it might be. In a perfect world, Draco was blameless, but they both knew it wasn’t completely true. Still, they also knew that Draco did his best, and for Harry that was more than enough.

“You can’t mean that.”

“I do. I always will.” He mumbled, using his thumb to stroke Draco’s arm as he held the man. “Merry Christmas.”

Of all things, the blonde let out a breathy laugh. “Merry Christmas.”

They could have laid there for hours, but they soon had to get ready for their afternoon apart. While Draco went to get dressed, Harry snuck into the kitchen and pulled out a nearly-complete Christmas pudding. He put it in a saucepan of simmering water and left it there as it would take quite a few hours to finish. Just enough time for him to spend the afternoon with the Weasleys.

Harry left in his Weasley sweater and new coat, while Draco left in his stupid fur hat.

Harry spent the afternoon exchanging small presents with every member of the Weasley family. He and Hermione also introduced Molly to the idea of Secret Santa, which she thought was a wonderful idea given the sheer amount of presents everyone had suddenly become responsible for. She was so excited, in fact, that she insist they draw names on New Years, so they would have ample time to prepare. Before she told the others, however, she pulled Harry aside.

“I know Draco didn’t come around this year. But, uhm, I was wondering if he might want to take part in it next year?” Molly asked with a small and hopeful smile.

Harry thought a moment before he responded. “I’m not sure. I’d have to talk with him about it, but I think he’d like that.”

Molly gave a smile and then pulled out a present from behind the tree, handing it to Harry. “It might be a bit forward of me, but I was hoping you could give this to him. I knit him a sweater.” She seemed to pleased with the fact. “I also saw your little dance in the papers, and the accusations of poisons and spells being used to make it happen.”

“I suppose some people can’t see us as ever being friends, let alone something more, so they blame magic.” He said with a shrug.

Molly gave a nod and somehow, she trusted him and Draco completely. It wasn’t something she could see Draco doing, especially not Harry. So she trusted Harry’s take on the situation. “Well, if he wants to participate in Secret Santa I’d love to have him. It also might be fun to have him over on New Years, if he wanted to come.” She said with a shrug, though the tone of her voice made it clear that she wanted him to come over, almost excited by it. Now that the war was over, she really only saw Draco as the boyfriend that Harry never brought around, and as a mother, she had to get to know him better.

Harry couldn’t help but to smile. “I think he’d like to. I also think he’ll appreciate the sweater. Thank you, Molly.” He said before wrapping her in a hug. Much to his dismay, he was only slightly taller than her. In fact, he even feared Ginny would catch up to him as she was a tad taller than Molly.

Draco, on the other hand, was having a loud and exciting Christmas afternoon. He met Pansy and his mother in Paris, since it was agreed that they would spend the afternoon with Blaise and his mother. They gossiped and laughed as if it were still the good old days, before the war had even happened. Blaise’s mother had also gotten a new boyfriend that they assumed would end up dead shortly after writing Blaise’s mother into his will, as all her other boyfriends and husbands had. It was a terrible business, but nobody really commented on it. It was as if they were in a silent agreement to pretend it wasn’t happening. But she spoke about this one differently. As if she was genuinely interested in him and not his money. Blaise had also met him, which was unusual. Blaise typically would have no opinion of them, but now, he spoke very highly of the man and seemed to get along with him.

The conversation turned around to Pansy’s shy confession of spending the Ministry ball with Alec Fick, the lycanthrope who in a few weeks will be taking up the mantle as head of the Department of Peoples Afflicted with Lycanthrope. Narcissa was shocked, Blaise’s only concern was with how cute Alec was, and his mother thought it wise to go after someone with a bit of political influence. Once Narcissa realized that nobody had a problem with who Pansy was interested in, she relaxed into the idea of Pansy dating outside of her blood status. The lycanthrope part threw her a bit. “Are you sure you’d be able to handle that? It can be difficult sometimes, especially during full moons.” She was a bit worried for her safety.

“I know. But there are ways to make it better. Alec is actually from Northern Ireland, and in his hometown, it’s normal for people afflicted and non-afflicted to date. They make it work and if I happen to fall for him, then I’d be willing to try.” Pansy sounded more confident about Alec than Draco had ever heard. He was happy for his friend and proud of her for sticking to what made her happy.

The blonde turned to his mother and watched her slowly nod, seeming to take in the information. “Well, if it works for them then I don’t see why you would be any different. So long as you’re happy, I suppose it doesn’t matter.” She was trying very hard to adapt to the world as it changed around her. She knew her beliefs weren’t very fair or right, and she wanted to be better, so she was taking baby steps. For that, nobody blamed her. So long as she was trying, everyone in the room supported and encouraged her. Draco gave her a proud smile and she gave a smaller one in return.

“But Draco, he’s been all over Harry.” Pansy teased, making all eyes go to Draco.

Of course, they had all seen the stories of their dance and they’d heard all the rumors about one having the other under a spell or Harry using Draco as a political ploy. But they were too wise to believe such nonsense.

A similar conversation came about where Draco was met with support, but Blaise was mostly interested on how cute Harry was. With the pictures he’d seen, he made the comment that every since Harry let his stubble grow he’s never looked so good. That lead to Draco telling his friends all about that morning, when he saw Harry shirtless for the first time. Laughter rang and they reveled in the bit of freedom they were all given by the holidays.

Narcissa couldn’t help but to bring up Lucius’ reaction. “Your father was quite upset by what he saw in the papers. Seems he can’t handle his master plan blowing up in his face.”

Draco only grinned. “Too bad. It’s really his fault.” He would never thank his father for what happened, or credit him for any happiness. His father didn’t deserve any credit for the good things that came from the marriage.

\- - - - -

Harry was the first to come home, which is what he intended. He remembered that Draco had once mentioned a traditional Christmas dinner and he planned to deliver, though in secret. He started by checking on the pudding and seeing it still needed about two more hours, adding a bit more water to the saucepan. He had a turkey thawing in the fridge that he drained of juices and patted dry. He put it in a roasting pan, seasoned it, shoved a meat thermometer into its thigh, and put it in the oven when it finished preheating. He then hurried to the pantry and pulled out potatoes that he planned on roasting. He chopped them up and let them sit in olive oil and a collection of herbs. With that sitting, he checked on the pudding once more, then the turkey. Sat on the counter was also cranberry sauce from a can, since he didn’t have the patience to actually make it. There were also brussel sprouts, but he had plenty of time before he needed to cook them.

He found himself waiting over the food until an owl came to his window. He opened it up and took a thick envelope from it’s mouth. It was from Daniel Greenwood of all people. The envelope yielded to Harry’s digging fingers and he pulled out a small letter. It wished him a merry Christmas and said that as a gift, Greenwood had finished all the laws associated with The Cupboard Project, and a copy of them sat in the envelope.

Harry went to put the letter in his room. It was one less thing for him to worry about and he was grateful.

While he was out of the kitchen, he also went into the sitting room and decided to put on his ABBA record, entirely unsurprised that ‘Dancing Queen’ was the opening song. He danced around and felt like a fool for the way he moved his hands and hips, but he felt oddly free. The record went on and on until there was a little over half an hour to spare on the turkey. He uncovered the potatoes and put them in on the bottom rack. He checked the pudding once again and found it was basically done. He put it on a dish and set it in the fridge to wait. The only thing left to cook were brussel sprouts. As disgusting as most people found them, Harry knew how to make them taste good. He sautéed them with oil and herbs in an attempt to make them more edible, which worked.

Cooking was suppose to be relaxing to Harry. It was suppose to be the thing he enjoyed. Maybe it was the importance of this particular meal, but he found himself spiraling downward. He only stared blankly at the cooker while he thought of how important this was. He thought about how disappointed Draco might be if he doesn't get this right, how disappointed he would be in himself. It was crazy and he knew it wasn't rooted in any kind of logic. He knew that Draco wouldn't actually be upset or disappointed, he felt safe around Draco, but that didn't matter anymore. Everything he knew didn't matter because this was beyond any kind of logic. As much as he tried, he couldn't talk himself out of this. He tried to tell himself that he needed to move and do something. He needed to stir the brussel sprouts or check on the potatoes. He told himself that he needed to focus on the task at hand, but he couldn't. Instead, he just stared at the food as it cooked and struggled with himself in his own mind. He didn't want to move, he didn't want to do anything. He could only stand there and become silently and softly overwhelmed. He blinked as the sizzling oil before him cracked and popped from the heat. A distressed look crossed his face and with a heavy hand, he finally managed to push the vegetables around in the pan.

Part of him didn't know why he was surprised. He should have know that he couldn't go so long without being sad. He was long overdue for a setback and here it was. He sighed and finally regained himself. Though it wouldn't be today, he decided that sometime soon, he would tell Draco about everything. He knew telling someone might help, and at the very least, it might help Draco understand why Harry wanted to wait to get together.

He left the kitchen a moment to trade ABBA for a Christmas record since this was their last chance to enjoy appropriately-timed Christmas music. He also wanted a festive atmosphere for Draco to walk in to. But just before he set the record on, Draco entered through the Floo, making Harry jump. He turned back with a small smile and got the record on. “Merry Christmas.” He greeted.

“Merry Christmas.” The blonde returned, immediately smelling herbs. “What are you cooking?”

“Oh, before I answer that, Molly wanted me to give you this.“ Harry handed him the neatly wrapped gift. He was a bit nervous that maybe Draco wouldn’t like it, or perhaps, that he would think it was too much. He knew that Draco had some nasty ideas about the Weasleys in the past but he was really hoping that the blonde had moved past it all.

He opened the gift and was surprised to see a green sweater with a golden ‘D’ on it. He stared at it in shock, parted lips and wide eyes. “Did Mrs. Weasley make this for me?”

Harry nodded. “Yea. She also wants you to come around for New Years.”

Draco was very surprised by all this. Just as he was about to say something else, Harry exclaimed, “My turkey!” And rushed into the kitchen. The blonde set his sweater down and followed with an excited smile. He could smell the turkey and he saw potatoes when Harry went to check on it. He also saw the brussel sprouts and a can of cranberry sauce on the counter. “What’s all this?”

Harry pulled out the potatoes and stirred around the brussel sprouts before answering. “You said once you’d like a traditional Christmas dinner. So I thought it would be nice to make one for you.” He only shrugged as if it was no big deal.

Draco couldn’t help but to smile at the sweet thing Harry had done for him. As much as he was sure Harry would also enjoy the dinner, he knew Harry had done this for him. This was the result of a small detail that Harry remembered. The act greatly appealed to Draco’s love languages and he smiled to himself. “Thank you, Harry. You haven’t a clue how much this means to me.”

Harry only smiled. “It’s no problem.” He said as he set the brussel sprouts on a dish and went to finally pull the turkey out of the oven, ridding it of the meat thermometer in it’s thigh. He opened up the cranberry sauce and plated it before pulling the Christmas pudding out of the fridge and setting it on the counter with the rest of the food. “There we are. All done.”

The blonde looked at it all and let out a soft laugh. “This is so sweet, Harry. I can’t believe you would do all this.”

He only shrugged. “Anything for the man who helped me finally see right.” He said as he adjusted his glasses in reference to the Christmas Eve spell. “I’m glad you like it. Should we get out some plates and start eating?” He wasn’t sure if Draco was hungry or not.

Draco reached into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine. “Why bother?” He popped a brussel sprout into his mouth and poured two glasses. “No point in dirtying two more dishes.”

Harry went along with it and they stood around the counter, eating and drinking at whims. The atmosphere was fun and friendly, until a few moments of eye contact changed everything. Harry was drawn to those grey eyes and he wanted to be near Draco again. After all the dancing and holding, he can’t resist physical urges. He needs it.

White Christmas came drifting through the house and Harry set his glass down. “Dance with me?” He hand out a hand.

Draco only raised an eyebrow and took the hand. “It’s almost as if you can’t resist me.” He teased.

“I can, I just don’t want to.” He didn’t bother putting his hands in the correct position to dance and simply threw them over Draco’s shoulders. “I like being near you.”

The blonde wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and smiled. “I like you near me, too.”

With that, they danced and ate to the rest of the Christmas album before flipping the disc over and starting again. They stayed pressed and tangled until some obscene hour of the night before they put away their leftovers and headed to their beds alone. But if Draco had asked, Harry wouldn’t have been able to resist not going to bed alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Doctor’s Discretion](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35673510-the-doctor-s-discretion) by EE Ottoman
> 
> [The Soldier’s Scoundrel](https://catsebastian.com/the-soldiers-scoundrel/) by Cat Sebastian


	25. December 26th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was fucking therapeutic

Nearly three months.

Harry’s spent nearly three months focused on himself. He’s meditated, read self-help books, spent time with friends and family, taken time to mourn his losses, said his goodbyes, written down his feelings, recognized commonalities and worked on fixing it, he’s even taken care of himself a bit better by exercising when he can. It made him feel great. He no longer needs to stand in the sun to feel alive. But it didn’t fix him.

He still had nights where he sat in a corner of his room, knees tucked into his chest, staring at nothing. He had moments where a noise was just too loud and sudden for him to ignore. There were times where things would be too calm and quiet, and he’d sit and wait for things to go wrong. There were days where he was never hungry as if his body still expected not to be fed. He had dreams that felt more like reliving his worst days with the Dursley’s. He hated these dips because he couldn’t understand them. He was suppose to be getting better. He wanted to see progress as a straight line that only went up, but he knew it wasn't that easy.

There were moments where all he could do was sit and remember. His mind would make him convince himself that if he had been more obedient it wouldn’t have been as bad. He knew he shouldn't waste his time because the past can't change, yet across so much time and space, he still wondered what he could do to please them. He hated that.

There weren’t many emotions when he thought back on those days. In fact, he rarely ever felt anything when he thought about it. Which is why the way he felt now, sitting on the sofa with Draco, made no sense to him.

He was jabbing the fingernails of his left hand quite harshly into his right palm. There was a light sting and his skin went pink, he momentarily worried it might bleed. It was a nervous tick that he'd never had before. Not even once. He doesn’t act like this and he couldn’t figure out why he suddenly was. It shouldn’t be this big a deal. It’s been years and he should be over it by now, but he wasn’t. Part of him wished he could be drowned by a numbing wave of a thousand emotions, but all he felt was panic. He was still scared.

Only some of his story had been released to promote The Cupboard Project, most of it was a mystery to Draco. Although they’ve spent the last sixty days on the sofa every evening, sharing their stories, Harry focused on Hogwarts and the war. He almost never spoke of the Dursley’s. Draco wasn’t stupid. He knew Harry’s abuse probably went further than what he had confessed and he could tell Harry was scared. He just wanted to make the other feel safe.

“Harry, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Only do this if it's what you want.” Draco didn’t want to discourage Harry, but he also didn’t want Harry feeling like he had to.

“I know. But I want to. It would be a lot easier to deal with me if you knew why I’m like this. Why I can’t take loud sounds or sudden movements, why I’m slow to intimacy, why I don’t open up like you do. I know I’m not always easy.” He decided to start from the beginning. “I couldn’t tell you much about my childhood. I don’t have many memories. Most of the things I remember are like snapshots. Little flashes with no context. Uhm.” He paused a moment, trying to find things to say. He worried that maybe he wasn’t abused, maybe he’d made it up in his head and that’s why he didn’t have examples. What if this was a cry for attention that manifested itself in a fake traumatic childhood? He felt crazy. His nails jabbed even faster at his palm and his throat was suddenly dry. He worried that he might start coughing. He felt humiliated.

“It’s okay. Take your time.” Draco would wait as long as Harry needed and didn't want the other to feel pressured. He was also a bit concerned for the nervous tick, which he had never seen before.

“I never had birthday or Christmas presents. For the longest time I didn’t know when my birthday was. I kept track of my age depending on what year I was in at school." He paused as his brain finally found a more specific topic to latch on to. "I hated school. I didn’t have friends because my cousin bullied everyone into staying away from me. I was isolated for my first eleven years of life. All I had was the Dursley’s. They belittled me, humiliated me, and any attempt at trying to be good was ignored.” He didn't even notice the way his hand slowed and the jabbing gradually stopped. Harry found himself making a bit of a connection which he revealed after a deep breath. “I suppose that’s why I always seem confused when you flirt with me. I guess I’m not used to someone wanting me and I don’t know what to do. I used to confuse kindness for sarcasm and wait for someone to laugh at me, but they never did. Even when I made friends in Hogwarts, I was underdeveloped. I spent years trying to catch up. There were so many things I didn’t get; jokes, social cues, double meanings. I never understood. Sometimes there are still things I'll miss. I think that’s why others think I’m sassy. I’m not really. I’m just direct.“

Draco wanted to say that he loved Harry’s boldness, but he knew that isn’t what Harry needed to hear. In fact, he knew Harry didn’t need to hear anything at all until he was done talking.

He thought a moment longer on the way he was treated and frowned. “I was denied affection. I was never shown love. Hell, I never try to hold you because I don’t understand. I was raised without it and now I don’t get it. I don’t understand how to ask for that! It’s just so far beyond me!” Harry stared down at his lap. He meant to delve into his childhood and tell stories, but things fall apart. "It sucks because I want to hold you all the time."

Draco took a chance in reaching up and letting his hand wrap around the lily that hung from his neck. He saw Harry shiver at the warmth that ran through him.

"You like reading, France, silver, expensive fabrics, you know who you are. I only just figured out what clothes I like to wear." Harry tilted his head. "I really was dehumanized, wasn't I? I never had my own clothes or toys, I didn't have a birthday, I didn't have a favorite color or music because it never mattered. I wasn't a person." He gave a shrug as if he accepted the fact. Harry couldn't make himself look at Draco. The panic rose again and the taste of bile shocked his mouth, though he knew he wasn't going to throw up. There was a fear he felt for people who couldn't hurt him and that he would never have to see again. He supposed there was no point in being afraid but there was no controlling it.

Draco waited. He could see something shifting in Harry's eyes, a story. But it was up to Harry on whether or not the story would be told.

"I don't think I've heard any of them apologize. Whenever something was wrong, it was my fault. They blamed me for things that I couldn't have done and I knew if I tried to defend myself, it would only make things worse. I remember when my cousin threw a rubber ball and it damaged a neighbor's house. He blamed me and said that he was distracted by the mud on my face, but it was only there because he pushed me down. So my aunt and uncle took his side, called me a pig, and I was made to go over to the neighbor's house and take care for the garden for a month, on top of my regular housework and schoolwork." For the first time, he sounded angry. He finally sounded as if he recognized that this wasn't his fault. But the small outrage didn't last. The more he thought, the more his feelings shifted to sadness, though it was dulled by a numbness that took over his body. "I never talked about myself to them. I didn't even tell them when I was sick because they would say I'm overreacting. I think that's why I never tell you about my work. I'm used to it not mattering. I remember my aunt told me that if I didn't talk about myself so much, I'd have friends. So I try not to. I feel like I'm unloading my problems onto you." A pained expression took over his features. "They never hit me. It feels like because I wasn't physically hurt, maybe I wasn't actually abused. Maybe I've made this up in my head, I don't know. I don't know." He stared down at the floor and he could feel himself starting to zone out in some attempt to escape the conversation.

"You aren't unloading your problems, you're letting me in. There's a difference and I'm honored that you would tell me these things." He set his hand atop Harry's without even thinking and saw the corners of Harry's mouth lift slightly. "You were without doubt abused. Emotional and verbal abuse are just as valid as physical."

His hand started up again, jabbing the fingernails of his left hand into it's own palm as his right was covered by Draco's. His mind lurched into his childhood. "The Dursleys told me I was lucky to have a family. I couldn't ruin what I had." He felt helpless and frustrated. "I knew how to deal with them, I knew how to survive, but what if I left and ended up somewhere worse? It was a risk I couldn't take. I tried to make myself unnoticeable, but every once in a while, a professor would ask, I'd protect them, and then I'd go home, terrified of what they would do to me for being noticed." He let out a weak laugh. "But the day that I left, I said to myself, anywhere is better than here. Strange, how things change."

Draco was angry. He couldn't comprehend the kind of monsters that the Dursleys were. Although he couldn't do lash out at them like he wanted, he hoped something terrible would happen to them. Draco was also a bit amazed at how Harry had gone so long without ever telling anyone. It couldn't've been easy to hold it in or let it out, so he appreciated the trust Harry had for him. “And you’ve never told anyone?” He asked, expecting Harry to agree. But he didn’t. He hesitated long and hard, and Draco could tell Harry was struggling with something heavy. He saw the other jab his nails even harder and faster, and for a moment he didn’t know what to think. He’s never seen Harry so afraid before. Even in the face of war or a boggart, he’s never been this scared. It killed Draco and all he could do was squeeze Harry's hand in a feeble attempt at comfort.

“I, uhm. I told one person. Once.” Harry said softly. “A neighbor. She asked about a bruise, I was young and stupid, so I told her the truth.” He stared at the ground long and hard. “She got confused, like she couldn’t believe they would do that, so she talked to them. They spun the story around so it was my fault. They said that I got the bruise when my aunt hit me, which was true, but that I deserved it for not cleaning as good as I was suppose to. I told my neighbor it happened all the time, even when I do nothing at all. But they told her that it only happened when I did something bad. And she believed them! She fucking believed them! She told me I was just confused, as if I didn’t really know what happened. I know what bloody happened!” He shook his head, looking up at Draco with a heartbroken expression, tears threatening to fall. His sadness broke and was replaced with anger. "And one day she comes and talks to me, telling me about how wonderful my aunt and uncle are. She told me that, to my bloody face, as if she didn't know about what happened!"

Draco couldn’t sit there and do nothing. Not anymore. He scooted closer and wrapped his arms around Harry, holding him close to his chest. “You didn’t deserve any of that, your neighbor’s an idiot and the Dursley’s are horrid. Though it was very brave of you to tell her in the first place. Don’t ever regret that bravery.”

Harry laid in Draco’s arms and let the turmoil inside of him be slightly dulled by those warm arms. “Thank you.” A tear fell from his face and he was hit with an overwhelming feeling of relief.

Draco held him tighter and closed his own eyes. “There’s no need, Harry. I’ll always listen if something’s wrong.”

“No, thank you for believing me.” He didn't feel better because he told Draco or because he let it all out. He felt better because finally, someone listened and believed him. Dear Merlin, someone believed him. Someone heard everything and didn't doubt it. Someone believed him. The feeling that gave him was indescribably valuable. It meant everything to him.

The blonde’s jaw dropped as he realized that this was the thing Harry had been afraid of. He wasn’t really scared of being hurt by his old family, he wasn’t worried about them finding out, he was worried that nobody would believe him and that everything that happened to him really was justified. His entire recovery rested on the fact that what they did was wrong and he didn’t deserve it. To have heard his neighbor imply otherwise must have been crushing him. “Of course I believe you. I know you aren’t a liar and everything they did, every bit of it, was wrong. You didn’t deserve any of that. You deserve the world Harry. Every bit of it.”

Harry let his eyes close and he turned his face to rest in Draco’s shoulder. His emotions calmed and turned into a sick feeling that churned in his stomach. This was a low point and he knew it. He was also proud of it, because he knew things would get worse before they got better. Maybe this was it. Maybe this would get him through his rut. He knew there would be more bad after this. He knew things might never always be great. But this was good enough. It was messy and confusing, but it felt good, and that’s enough.

"Harry, I'm ..... I'm proud. I am so incredibly proud of you. You've come so far and you're trying to heal. I just think that's amazing." All charm and any silver tongue left him, and in the wake of such a raw and real moment, he couldn't utter the words hung in his throat. So he held Harry closer. Perhaps that was enough.

They were both drained and their eyes were closed. Sleep crept and stole them away. Neither knew when they fell asleep but it took them over completely. Time went on as their eyes occasionally fluttered open but never for long. They stayed in each others arms, tangled on the sofa, wrestling sleep and consciousness until the evening fell to night. For one lucid moment, Harry was so incredibly aware. His eyes peeked open and he was struck by the heart-wrenching realization that everything that's happened to him, and everything he had ever done, lead to this one moment of peace. Despite it all, he wouldn't change a thing. If he could choose, he knew he would choose this moment, he would choose Draco, every single time. That's how he knew he was falling in love. It was insane to him how he could look up at the sleeping blonde and not see him the same way he did only yesterday, or even a few hours ago. Everything was different now and he couldn't go back. He didn't want to go back. The past had lost all meaning and he only knew now.

Maybe it was because of his confessions, maybe it was because of the way Draco held him, but everything had changed and Harry couldn't resist. He let himself fall into the new feelings and surrender had never felt so sweet.

He buried his cheek into Draco's shoulder and did his best to stay awake. He didn't want to sleep and lose this moment. Ah, there it was, the fear of loss. He didn't want to lose a second with Draco; he wanted to be present and aware for every moment he had. But that didn't last forever. Eventually, his eyes closed for just a bit too long, and he was pulled once more into slumber.

When they woke the next morning, they lingered for as long as possible before Harry had to use the bathroom and Draco needed something to drink. They returned to the sofa and sat much closer than they used to.


	26. The Perfect Courtesan

The Daily Prophet, at best, can be quite humorous. At worst, and to it's habit, it can unnecessarily complicate Harry Potter's life. Despite having Alex on the inside, writing the articles that Harry asks, things still happen.

The Weasley house was filled with family and friends; eating, talking, and drinking; awaiting the arrival of the new year. Harry kept Draco on his arm and went around, proudly introducing him to everyone. To the blonde's surprise, he was greeted by smiles and warm welcomes. He spent much of the afternoon around Molly and Bill, talking with them about politics. They were pleasantly surprised to find that they had similar beliefs. With Arthur, they bonded over the fact that Draco, via Harry, actually knew quite a bit about the muggle world.

"You ought to come over one day. Harry has a record player, wonderful muggle invention for playing music. He has these discs with songs on them, and when he puts a disc in the record player it fills the house with music. It really is wonderful."

Arthur beamed and let Draco explain record players to him. In truth, he actually knew a great deal about muggle society and was currently writing a comparative paper on democracy, the concept of a republic, and Wizengamot. His position was a bit more distinguished than he let on, such as when he questioned Harry on rubber ducks to help him relax via a question he would find humorous. He was very familiar with record players, understood how they worked, and he'd used them before. But he wanted Draco to feel comfortable, so he indulged the boy. "What kind of music does Harry have? Do these records have different genres or is it all the same?"

"It's actually organized by bands. One of his favorites is, ABBA."

Harry couldn't help but to smile at the way Draco seemed to get along with everyone.

Charlie told him all about dragons, George showed him a few prototypes for new products at his shop, Hermione spoke briefly with him about politics, Ron made his usual jokes about he and Harry being married before him, and Percy seemed a bit hesitant to talk to him. Percy never made it past the expected pleasantries and Draco didn't push him. He didn't expect to be completely accepted by everyone and was okay with the fact. If anything, the acceptance he was shown came as a surprise.

Some conversations were a bit heavier than others. Ginny told him about her year with Voldemort. It was a topic forced by her and it seemed to be motivated by a sense of anger and mistrust. It was uncomfortable but Draco, but he listened. He listened and he understood. He didn't interrupt, in fact, he didn't say anything. He kept silent and let her get it out. By the end of it they had both shed a few tears. They both apologized, even though Draco wasn't sure why. He felt the need, as if it had been his fault all along. Nevertheless, the conversation ended with a hug and they both felt better, though neither could explain why.

He and Fleur had an extensive conversation in French, the subject of which remained a mystery to everyone except Bill, who could just barely get by in the language. The only hint was the fact that they occasionally glanced to Harry and Bill would every-so-often make a confused or uncomfortable face. Still, not much could be interpreted other than they must have been talking about Harry. But based on Bill's reactions, Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know what they were talking about.

When the names for Secret Santa were drawn and the clock hit twelve, they stayed a while longer before everyone headed home. It had been a long and fun day that made Draco feel a bit at-home around the Weasleys.

The night could have been perfect, if not for what happened after they went home.

Harry had changed into his pajamas and brushed his teeth, nearly ready for bed, until he heard a door close in the sitting room. Upon investigation, he saw Draco had just come in with the copy of The Daily Prophet that had been sitting out front, as neither had collected it that morning. He stared down at the paper and looked a bit horrified and embarrassed.

“They think me a whore.” Venom dripped from his tone as he moved away from the front door and sat on the sofa. “They think I’m a whore, Harry. That I’m seducing you for political influence.” His face and voice became oddly emotionless as he read on. “I suppose it makes sense. It’s what Malfoys have done for generations to gain money and power. But still, after everything I’ve been through. After everything you said at my trial." He took a deep breath. "It’s because of our dance, it'n it? They don't understand and now they’re running wild with speculation.” He shook his head and looked up at Harry. “They think I’m a whore.” He said once more in disbelief. “They’re calling me the perfect courtesan and say I’m doing all this by my father’s wishes. After all this, how could they still think me a pawn?”

Courtesan originally mean a person who attends the court of royals. Modernly, it refers to an escort with rich and powerful clientele. Both meanings seemed to intertwine for a sick and insulting play on words.

Harry moved to sit by him. “I’m sorry. I never should have asked you to dance. I knew it wasn’t a good time but you just looked so handsome and I couldn’t resist an-”

“No.” Draco cut him off. “I don’t and I never will regret our dance. I’d do it a million more times in front of the entire world. This isn’t your fault. It isn’t even my fault. This is just the press, desperate for a story.” He looked at the paper once more before something seemed to click on his head. “You thought I looked handsome?” He looked back up at Harry with a grin.

He looked away and nodded. “Of course I did. You always look handsome. It’s just ..... I don’t ever see you all dressed up. I don’t know. I liked it. Shut up.”

Draco chuckled and raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. “Oh? You just couldn’t resist me, hm? Being the proper gentleman that I am, I can understand how you couldn’t fend off my charm and grace. Truly, I am a being above all others. The sad truth of our situation is, in fact, that _you_ are the courtesan; hopelessly pining over such a high class gentleman.”

Harry crossed his arms. “Wow, that was so hilarious I forgot to laugh.” He stood up. “It’s late. Go to bed, Draco.”

“Ordering me around? I didn’t think you were _that_ kind of escort. Then again, I can appreciate a bit of assertiveness.” He commented as he trailed behind Harry.

“Merlin, go to bed.” Harry whined as he went into his room, but Draco stood in the doorframe before Harry could shut it. He tilted his head and waited for Draco to speak.

The blonde looked a bit coy before finally getting it out. “Look, I know you said you wanted to wait, and I’m still okay with that, I’ll always be okay with that. But, uhm. If there ever was a night where you didn’t want to go to bed alone, just let me know.” He seemed to realize the potential sexual nature of his comment and gave a surprised expression before quickly adjusting his language. “Not to say that I’m offering anything of a sexual nature, I’m not. We don’t even have to cuddle or anything. Uhm. Well, not to say I’m _not_ offering anything sexual, either. I, uh. I’m good with anything, really.”

Harry looked into Draco’s grey eyes. “Happy New Year, Draco. And thank you.” His cheeks went a bit red as he confessed, “I might have to take you up on that, later.”

Draco smiled, gave a nod, and went to bed.

That night, Harry had a very unfortunate incident. He was having a nice wank when he accidentally started thinking about Draco, and then came, whimpering the man’s name. Entirely accidental. Except for the part where he loved every second of it and very intentionally tried to say the blonde's name as many times as possible.

The last few days have made him strangely motivated for work. He knew he was falling for Draco, he knew Draco felt the same, and when they were together they’d be able to officially dispel any rumors of one using the other. In fact, it all made him momentarily forget that he and Draco were already legally married. It was a strange set of circumstance that he found himself in, but it made him want to do more. With the holiday season over, he felt ready to dive back in.

In Wizengamot, the next day, he found himself in the middle of every conversation. Carefully turning each one to his and Pawk’s ideas. Most seemed to support him, but less for Pawk. It made him sick to think that discrimination was so normalized that some wouldn’t support it’s opposition. So he did what he had to. He told older members that Muggles already had laws about it and that they needed to catch up. He supported younger members who tried to speak in favor of the bill by throwing out statistics and studies done by Muggles to prove it’s benefits. There was also the fact that this would be the first bill ever create by a person afflicted with lycanthrope, which is a historical moment, and history isn't always kind to it's subjects, especially those on the wrong side of it. It was vaguely threatening but it was met with much agreement. Not to say Harry would ever openly threaten anyone to get what he wants, but it was obvious that he wasn't playing his political game with many morals. He upped his charm, complemented, kept a level-head, focused on facts, and said everything he had to. In that moment he was the king of Versailles, a master of socialites, the perfect courtesan.

But not everyone was so open to letting him talk politics without mentioning the headlines surrounding him and Draco. He ignored most of the questions but couldn’t avoid the comments that people made. Most people seemed to be glad that Draco was doing his own thing, some younger people worried about Draco’s influence, while older members went on and on about Draco’s fall from grace, talking about how he was a blood traitor and that what he’s doing is unforgivable. Even when Harry wasn't around, older members made sure to talk loud enough for Harry to hear the way they so openly disapproved of Draco's choices.

But when Wizengamot was called to order, all eyes were on Harry and Hermione.

“We will now hear from Mr. Potter and Mrs. Granger on behalf of The Cupboard Project.” The Head Warlock announced as the meeting came to order.

Harry and Hermione made their way to the front and began presented the department outline. It did not yet involve the laws. This vote was only on whether or not the department would be created.

It’s purpose, intentions, projected financial report, limitations, etc were reported to the members of Wizengamot. Harry kept his arguments clear and said as much as possible in as few words as he could. He was succinct and persuasive, backing up every word he said, looking into the eyes of every member of the room, calling out doubts before they were even spoken and putting them to rest. He spoke with the same fervid passion that he walked in with the day he fought for the rights of people afflicted with lycanthrope. Hermione followed, throwing off any supporting facts and argument that Harry, in his intensity, might have missed. This was their soap box, this was their pulpit, and they preached with a blind devotion. With everything at their disposal they could not let this fail. Not now.

Harry had been clouded by his own determination and felt only his own passion, but when they began to take questions, he realized that he was afraid.

Some asked typical questions about affected law codes and financials, others threw out wild accusations of having people spy on families and no longer having any rights or privacy, some worried about what that would mean for punishing misbehaving children, others wonders what exactly was too far in those regards, but some took it in an opposite direction. Some said it wasn't strict enough and that it wouldn't do enough. They said that there were orphans of war being places in unsuitable homes, so what about them? Why waste time on a department when things needed to be settled and fixed now?

Many raised concerns that were genuine, some pushed to have the department dispelled, and others spoke just to have their name on the department's history. While many were legitimate, some were obviously more concerned with notoriety and image.

This gave Harry the very unfortunate reminder of his second action with Alex in the press. The creation of a faction lead by Luther, the crabbiest member of Wizengamot. Though he had the leadership skills of a sheep, somehow, his faction hadn't fallen apart yet.

Before Harry ever grew a backbone and made his speeches, Wizengamot went through a period of arguing all the time, and feeding off of each other's nonsense. That seemed to be the tactic favored by Luther's followers. He sat back and smiled as a group of maybe six or seven wizards went around with the theory that Harry was trying to introduce a restrictive new form of government that would watch everything that everyone did in order to monitor whether or not someone was being abusive, and it would lead to generations of sensitive pansies, and that he's being a baby, and anyone supporting him was letting wizard society being run into the ground.

Harry only stared them down and took the abuse. At one point, Hermione tried to defend him, but he stopped her. "I can take it, 'Mione, don't make yourself a target."

She hated that. She hated everything about it. But she knew how important this was to him and she went with it.

It ended with a screaming match between Luther's followers and absolutely no one. They fed off of each other and got louder and louder, for seemingly no reason.

The Head Warlock called them to order, threatened to kick them out, and personally apologized to Harry.

The meeting continued and Harry and Hermione were grilled. They were shown no mercy, but they were prepared. All questions were answered to the best of their ability, though some had no answer yet. Some could only be answered theoretically. They dispelled many rumors and did their best to ease any doubts. The only thing that truly worried Harry was when someone asked about the lawyer representing the department, and he had to answer, "Daniel Greenwood." The man who got Lucius Malfoy off in exchange for the arrest of the remaining Death Eaters. There was a mixed reaction as some approved of what he did but other, more stern believers, hated him for negotiating with a perceived evil.

Finally, all questions had been answered and it was time for the vote. Everyone wrote either _yay_ or _nay_ on a scrap of parchment. The ink disappeared and reappeared on a scroll that the Head Warlock held. He unraveled it after the vote and came to realize that an overwhelming majority voted in favor of the creation of the department.

"The Cupboard Project has passed it's preliminary vote." That made most of the room smile. "Mrs. Granger and Mr. Potter, you hereby have twenty days to finish the associated laws before The Cupboard Project will have it's final vote and be presented to the Minister for approval. Wizengamot will reconvene in three days for the preliminary vote on Epione Pawk's anti-discriminatory bill."

The bill was passed and the laws were already completed, but Harry wasn't done.

He had three days to guarentee Pawk's bill would pass it's preliminary vote. When the meeting was closed and people began leaving, he got Hermione to say behind and with the subtle jerk of his head, motioned for Pawk to follow him. They stood in the lobby, both women curious about why Harry pulled them aside.

"Before the meeting was called I did some talking. It seems a lot of people aren't sure about your anti-discriminatory bill. From what I've managed you have about a forth of the people here on your side, but you need half for the first vote and two-thirds for the second. How can we make this happen?" As much as he hated it, he still had the same amoral sentiment as before the holiday season overcame him. Part of him wished that he was more emotional and considerate, but he couldn't afford to be. He's seen the selfish game his colleagues play, and to be selfless, he had to play harder. "I do have a friend at The Daily Prophet. They could write us a few favorable stories, or a few unfavorable ones about someone we might not like." He offered.

Hermione, the determined and intelligent woman that she is, was all over the idea. "We could go ahead and knock down Luther's faction with a sour review of him. In their leaderless confusion we could convince someone perceived as being on their side to turn them into supporting the bill." She looked around, eyeing different members of Wizengamot, as if searching for the perfect candidate.

"Wait, what? You two can't be serious." Pawk suddenly felt as if she was suddenly in over her head. She was very aware of the rules that the two had to break and bend for the sake of the revolution, but she didn't expect them to carry over into politics. Though she's never faced opposition quite like them, she knew how to fight. But this was a warfare she was entirely unfamiliar with. "Where are you even getting these ideas from?"

"Voldemort. This is the kind of shit he used to pull, and as terrible as it is, it works." Harry explained with a simple shrug. His own eyes were also scanning the crowd of people as they left. "Greenwood owes me quite a bit for setting him up with your bill and our department. I'm certain I could pull a favor and have him dig up something controversial in Luther's past that my friend could write on."

"You say 'friend' and that worries me. Why are they helping you?" Hermione asked between what seemed to be her making mental notes of different people, compiling a silent list of names. This mixed focus caused her to stumble a bit on the pronoun as she wasn't used to using it.

"I feed them stories and they get credit at their job. It's mutually beneficial."

"You're both insane." Pawk said, drawing their attention. "This isn't as serious as a revolution." Though this political game was originally her idea, they had taken it father than she ever did. She felt like she had lost control of it and it worried her because she couldn't predict what they would do. Though she still saw them as children, she's seen what they're capable of, and she, like most, were a bit scared of them.

Hermione stared at her a moment, a thousand unspoken words in her expression. She stepped towards the taller woman, yet somehow, seemed to tower over all. "This _is_ a revolution, Pawk. War isn't the end of it. It all comes down to politics. It _always_ comes down to politics. Politics are what start and stop it all. We can't leave any room for another Voldemort to come along. If your bill doesn't go through, it'll take an average of twenty years for someone else to pick it up and try again. A lot can happen in twenty years. Voldemort happened in less. I know it doesn't seem that serious, but it is. Some of these older members are as radical as they come. All they need is the smallest chance and they'll try to pass something extreme."

Pawk blinked a few times, her shoulders slumping. As much as she didn't want it to be true, it made sense.

"From what I've gathered, Pansy would fit well. They think her to be like them, but we know she has ideals closer to ours. We could offer her something in exchange for talking to Luther's followers after we slam him in the press." Hermione glanced over at a clock and grew a somewhat anxious expression. "Minister Shacklebolt is expecting me in the next ten minutes so there's one last thing I ought to tell you. I've heard of a group in Wizengamot that Ministry officials have dubbed The Silent Seven. Younger members who seem to be on our side but don't speak much." She pulled out a piece of parchment and a pen, since she was in too much of a hurry to bother with quills. She wrote down seven names and handed them to Harry. "I have to go, but I wish you both the best of luck. Send me a letter tonight and let me know what happened."

Hermione, though silent and only an intern, had a very unique position in Wizengamot and overheard many useful bits of information. Harry and Pawk considered themselves lucky to have her on their team.

Harry looked over the list and shrugged. He recognized most of the names from school but didn't really know any of them. "Do you have any preference in who you talk to?"

Pawk glanced at the list and shook her head. "Just give me the top four names. This is my bill so I'll do most of it."

He ripped the list in two, handing her the names. "Right then, I suppose I should talk to Greenwood to try to find some dirt. My goal is to have the article out by tomorrow." He glanced at the clock and saw it wasn't even time for lunch. That morning he had skipped breakfast because he thought he would be coming home after Wizengamot. He didn't realize Pawk's bill had so little time.

He hurried along and made his way through Wizengamot, giving a nod to Greenwood's secretary, who knew to let him in without question.

With a deep breath, he closed the door behind him. He was doing this to ensure Pawk's success, yes, but it was all to leave Wizengamot and focus on Draco. In the end it all came down to Draco.


	27. In The Palace of Versailles, Rule The Guillotine

Upon beginning his career in Wizengamot, Harry never intended on being an important figure. It was only ever his intention to undo Voldemort's influence and to push through much needed progress. He never intended on being the leader that everyone expected and wanted him to be. He's encountered articles about how he should do more, run for Minister, or take over Wizengamot. Conversely, he's also seen articles saying he's too influential and powerful already. Others want him to take an official role of leadership while others think he had too much power as is.

Still, politics were a very dangerous game. The Ministry was like Versailles. All important members of the government were in one place, away from the rest of society, trying to balance on what remained after Voldemort and the revolution. Though some wanted Harry to be the Sun King, he wasn't stupid enough to try. Trading his power for a title was a move he considered very unwise. Why do that when he sat at the heart of it all, pulling on strings people didn't even know existed. Not to mention, the moment a leader fell out of favor, they were left headless. Harry much preferred to have his hand on the rope of the guillotine.

He took a seat in Greenwood's office and the eager lawyer offered up a drink, which Harry declined. He wouldn't risk it on an empty stomach.

"I wasn't expecting you, but this is definitely a pleasant surprise. How did the preliminary vote go?" Greenwood asked with a soft smile. There was a flicker of nervousness in his eyes that Harry still wasn't used to seeing. He's noticed that when it came down to business, even people like Pawk got a nervous look about them. He knew he was influential and that there was weight behind his name and past, but he didn't think it so serious.

"It went well. We managed forty out of fifty votes and we give our final vote in twenty days, which I expect you'll be attending to explain the legal side."

Greenwood nodded and barely concealed his dry gulp of anxiousness. "If that was all you had to say to me, you would have written a letter. What else is there?"

Harry smiled. So that was it. Greenwood was afraid of him. For reasons both unknown and unappealing, Harry enjoyed it. It was his first real taste at power and he wanted to relish it just a moment longer. "Given that I set you up with Pawk's bill, I assume you know I support her very much. But there's been a man giving us both a bit of trouble: Louis Luther. Heard of him?"

Of all things, Greenwood let out a laugh. "Of course. Some idiot wrote about how great he is and now he's leading a bunch of morons against you two."

"That idiot happens to be my friend and it was written by my instructions." He confessed. He wasn't worried about Greenwood knowing this about him. The lawyer was still very much vulnerable and he relied on Harry. If anything, this display of power could prove useful in adding to Greenwood's willingness to do a favor. "I set up the opposition behind a weak man and I did it intentionally. I did it so that now, in such a trying time, I can knock him down. With the opposition leaderless and confused, I convince those of ambiguous morals to swoop in and pull them to my side." He gave Greenwood a friendly smile and added, "_Our_ side." Just to comfort him and know that there were no hard feelings for the perceived insult.

Greenwood sat up straight and shifted a bit. "Oh, my." Was all he could manage for a moment. "Well, what can I do for you?" This wasn't his first rodeo, but he's never dealt with someone quite as clever or influential as Harry. He was also, for the first time in his career, not very favorable due to his entanglement with Lucius Malfoy. He was at the mercy of a man more powerful that those he's dealt with before. For the first time in a long time, he was nervous and had no options but to comply.

Harry let a grin slip onto his face before he took a deep breath and gave his instructions. The way emotions flickered on and off of his face so quickly was yet another little tactic of his. It was unnerving in ways people could never quite pinpoint or explain. "I was only wondering if there was something in Luther's past that might be a bit, controversial. Something my friend in the press could use to knock him down."

There was a moment of pause as the words sunk in. Greenwood understood how important this was and he wasn't going to mess it up. His eyes flickered around his office as if the answer was going to be hung on a wall and he had to stop himself from springing to his feet as he came to an answer. "Give me two hours and I'll have something for you. I'll have to look in the archives but I do remember his name being mentioned in a few Voldemort-era cases that were never investigated." The answer was almost frantic. As if he had received the key to something that would ensure his own safety.

Harry smiled and nodded, reaching out to shake Greenwood's clammy hand. "Good working with you, Greenwood. I may have another project for you in the future." He left the offer out there and all the poor lawyer could do was nod and give a nervous smile, knowing better than to refuse an offer from someone in power.

For the second time in a row, Harry went to the bathroom after leaving Greenwood's office. But instead of having a breakdown, he only washed his hands and left.

He decided to Floo home for lunch since there wasn't much he could do without dirt on Luther. Draco was sitting on the sofa, frantically writing in a writer's book. The difference between this and a regular journal is that the parchment was enchanted. One could erase the ink on it or move words around. Harry figured it was as good as a computer. Though he was oddly proud to see Draco was using a pen rather than a quill and ink.

"Getting to that novel, I see." Harry joked before being immediately shushed.

"Sod off, my characters are going on an unofficial date."

Harry chuckled and went into the kitchen, pulling out some leftover turkey and making a sandwich. He made another for Draco since he figured the blonde had no intention of leaving the sofa until he burnt himself out on writing. Before leaving the kitchen, he sent off a quick letter to Alex, asking them to meet him at their bench behind the Ministry in three hours. Then he sat down on the sofa and set the other plate on the coffee table before Draco. The blonde glanced at it and muttered a thanks.

While still writing, though a bit slower, he asked, "I thought you'd be home earlier?"

"So did I, but some things happened." He took a bite of his sandwich before he realized how disengaged that sounded. He also realized that unlike the Dursleys, Draco did care, so he tried to elaborate. "A friend of mine, Pawk, her bill is being voted on in three days and I'm just trying to get her a bit more support."

"How?"

The question was a bit more difficult to answer than Harry wanted to admit. His first instinct was to not tell the truth and he hated that. He wanted to be honest and he knew he should be honest, but he also knew how shady and amoral his dealings would sound. He didn't want Draco to think of him differently or to see him in the same way he saw the followers of Voldemort. Though their interests are very dissimilar, he knew the tactics would sound identical. He was getting what he wanted through puppet leaders, manipulation, intimidation, and by controlling the press. Throw in a few unforgivable curses and there wouldn't be a difference.

"I've been talking to different members of Wizengamot, figuring out their hesitations and convincing them otherwise." Although it wasn't a lie, it left out some pretty important things. Nevertheless, he went with it and Draco didn't question it. At least, not aloud.

Draco wasn't stupid. He knew how politics worked. Though he did give some credit to the fact that most people wouldn't say no to Harry Potter and that Wizengamot is largely newbies, he knew that getting support would take a lot more than that. He was also aware that Harry had a streak of breaking and bending rules. Something told him there was more to it, but he didn't want to push Harry to share. Instead, he only nodded. "That's nice of you."

"Yea, I only have a few more people to talk to, but I'm free for the next two hours." He said it in a sort of suggestive tone that made it clear he wanted to spend time with Draco.

The blonde only grinned and continued writing. "Eat." As much as he enjoyed the attention, he knew Harry didn't have breakfast that morning.

Harry rolled his eyes and took a bite of his sandwich. "You haven't started on yours." He pointed out.

Draco only raised an eyebrow, not looking away from his writing. "Yes, but I actually had breakfast."

He finished his sandwich in silence, watching Draco. Though it would be boring to most people, he thought it was pretty interesting. He started by looking over Draco's shoulder a while and reading it as Draco went along. The characters were wrapped up in a conversation that existed to establish the fact that they were both single and interested in men. The lawyer nursed a single glass of wine through the night while the photographer had a few glasses of whisky, but it's dulled effect showed a tolerance for alcohol. He followed along for a few paragraphs before Draco finally noticed him watching. He flushed pink and raised an eyebrow, "Having fun?"

Harry knew the question was meant to be sarcastic, but he nodded. "Yea, I like the way you write." He tore his eyes from the page and looked the blonde in the eye. "Am I bothering you?"

Draco only stared a moment, soaking in the fact that Harry was once again, supporting the passion that he kept hidden for so long, and smiled. "No, no bother at all." He started writing again while Harry watched. They both became so absorbed in what they were doing that they didn't know quite when Draco ended up sitting on Harry's lap, two arms around his waist. Harry loved every second of it. Be loved being able to hold Draco.

Just as Draco started chapter six, Harry gave a slight jolt under him. "Love, I have to get back to work."

"Right, forgot about that." Draco began to move off of him, but something clicked in his head just a second too late and he looked up. "Did you just call me love?"

Harry looked as if he was also surprised by the fact. "Uhm, yea. I did."

Draco let a smile slip onto his face and he raised an eyebrow. "Right then."

"I'm sorry if that was ..... maybe too much?"

"No, it's fine. I don't mind it at all." He reassured before motioning to the Floo. "See you after work, love."

Harry's cheeks went red and an involuntary grin spread onto his face before he took the Floo back to the Ministry. He was only a few minutes late and quickly made his way back to Greenwood's office. Before entering, he took a few deep breaths and fixed his clothes so he didn't look like he was in a hurry.

The secretary greeted him with a smile and he gave her a nod as he entered, seeing Greenwood looking over a few files on his desk. "Potter, good to see you again. Take a lunch in your Wizengamot uniform?"

Harry looked down at the dumb plum robes he was still wearing and nodded. "Didn't have time to change." Sounded much more professional than confessing that he was too busy cuddling with his unofficial boyfriend.

Greenwood passed Harry a few pages from different files as he explained them. "First of all, we have his name mentioned in a case where a few knock-back jinxes were used on pedestrians in Muggle London by St. James' Park. He's listed as a suspect because three witnesses could place him at the scene, but there was never a conviction because Voldemort was in power. Then we have him in two more cases of minor magical violence against Muggles in the Soho area of London, with witnesses, and a few spells were even traced back to his wand, but there was never an official investigation or prosecution. Really, I'm also wondering why he was never considered a Death Eater. It seems he ticks all the boxes besides taking the mark, but we're tried and convicted people with even less."

Harry nodded and stared at the papers a moment before growing a small smile. "Can you get me copies of these?"

Greenwood nodded and cast a spell that copied the ink from the three pages onto a spare piece of parchment. He presented Harry with a small scroll, containing all the information he needed.

Harry took it and stood. "Thank you, Greenwood. Expect a new project soon." Harry said as he shook the man's hand and left. He already had a few ideas in his mind.

If everything worked out and he was able to get Pansy to infiltrate the younger members of Luther's followers, that would only be half the work. He wanted to get Hermione to convince her new friend, Effie Crow, to take on the older members. A revival of the failed St. Mungo's reform might be a way to get them both on board. If they were each offered a way to get positive press and support behind their names, they might be more willing to take up the small favor.

He left the Ministry and headed behind the building, headed towards a bench where he saw Alex pacing around.

"Hey, you alright?" He asked, causing Alex to look up at him.

"Yea, just excited. What have you got for me?"

Harry stared at them a moment. "I grew up with my livelihood dependent on how my aunt and uncle felt about me at the moment. As a result, I became good at reading emotions, which is how I know you're lying to me right now."

Alex's smile fell and they sighed. "It's about all the press you've been getting. People are really really concerned about your entanglement with Draco Malfoy. Some people really believe he's using you and others hate him for being a blood traitor. I'm a bit concerned for both of your safeties."

Harry's stern expression shifted to a comforting one. "I appreciate that. I really do. But we'll be fine."

They nodded and took a deep breath, trying to push their concern aside. "Alright, what have you got for me?"

Harry handed over the scroll. "Luther, the man I had you build up, it's time to take him down. I have evidence linking him to three acts of magical violence against Muggles but he was never investigated or convicted, because the crimes were committed Voldemort-era."

Alex's jaw dropped as they looked through the scroll. "This is insane. Harry, this is beyond ruining his following, this could get him arrested and out of Wizengamot permanently."

He stared at the scroll in Alex's hands for a moment before he seemed to come to a decision. Although it wasn't very morally sound, he knew it was right to expose such crime, even if it was for a selfish reason. "No one is above the law, Alex. Regardless of the reason, in the end, this is the right thing to do."

Alex grinned at him and looked over the scroll once more before commenting, "I must say, your passion is quite inciting." They thought a moment and a small smirk slipped onto their face. "Still a virgin?"

Harry looked confused but nodded.

"Malfoy must be a saint." With that, they left.

It was then that Harry understood. Alex was attracted to not only power, but intelligence. It sent a brief shiver through him though he only wanted to go home to Draco. So he did.


	28. A Game of Cards

Headlines were made, and for the first time in two weeks straight, it wasn’t about Draco and Harry. Instead, The Daily Prophet headlined an investigative report on Louis Luther and his involvement with violent crimes against Muggles.

That morning started off with Aurors being called into work earlier than normal to go over a few case files, which lead to The Daily Prophet printing off a second paper that afternoon, all about Luther’s arrest and the fall of his political party. But Harry wasn’t even aware of the second paper. By then, he was already in a small cafe in Hogsmeade, looking around for his first target in The Silent Seven: Alexis Wright. The first thing he noticed was that she had the name surname as Alex, but he decided it was too early to make any assumptions. Upon seeing her, however, he was almost certain. She had almost the exact same face as Alex.

He approached her and gave a small smile. “Seen the papers?” He asked as he sat next to her. That morning, he had asked her to talk with him and she told him to meet her there.

“Yes. It was about time someone took Luther down. Merlin knows how he ended up leading a party when he has the leadership skills of a sheep.” She let out a soft chuckle before sipping her coffee. “It really was only a matter of time. But I know you didn’t call me here to discuss that.” She turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

“You’d be right, I didn’t. I wanted to talk to you about Pawk’s bill.”

She let out a laugh. “I figured you wanted to talk politics. I’m not quite sure about Pawk’s bill. My only concern is what will and won’t be qualified as discrimination and how that would be determined.”

“If someone feels they’re being discriminated against, they would need to gather evidence in the form of witnesses, written statements, recordings, etcetera. They have to prove it to a jury.”

Wright sighed. “I’m just not certain about it.”

As much as he wanted to get passionate, he knew that wouldn’t work on her. So he changed angles. “Do you happen to have a sibling that works for The Daily Prophet?”

This got her attention. “Yea, Alex. What about it?”

“It’s just that you two look so similar, I couldn’t help but to wonder. They’ve been writing some very impressive stories.” He casually threw out, wondering if a familial appeal might work on her.

She furrowed her eyebrows. “They.” She paused a few seconds in surprise. “You said they, and not she.”

Harry blinked a few times and worried he might have made a mistake. “Apologies, I was under the impression that Alex went by gender-neutral pronouns.”

“They do. It’s just that most people don’t seem to care. Even their own boss.”

He regained his cool and raised an eyebrow. “Well that isn’t very respectful. Might even be grounds for discrimination.”

“Perhaps.” She said, looking him up and down. She seemed to be mulling something over in her head. Eventually, she came to a decision. “You have my support, Potter. In your department and Pawk’s bill.”

He gave a smile. “Thank you. That really means a lot to me.”

With her taken care of, he only had to worry about his final two names, Gaius and Cassiopeia Searcy. He stepped out onto the streets and an owl flew down to him with a letter. He took it and saw it was from Pawk. She wrote about how she’d already finished off half her list. He sent off a reply saying he only needed to convince the Searcys.

He headed over towards The Three Broomsticks, which the Searcys often frequented. On his way there, he received quite a few looks. Some angry, others suspicious, and some even pitying. He figured it had something to do with his dance with Draco and ignored him. Journalists snapped photos and tried to ask questions about it, but he only ignored them. Others threw out questions that seemed vaguely like threats, asking if he or Draco are prepared in case an extremist goes after them. He ignored it all and left them at the door of The Three Broomsticks, his eyes searching for the Searcys.

He found them at the bar, though it was only the afternoon. He sat a few seats down from them a got a drink before they noticed him. They greeted him with smiles and a few niceties. After a bit of small talk, he turned the conversation to politics and brought up Pawk.

“I’m really thinking about voting for her. What about you two?”

Cassiopeia only shrugged. “Maybe. What we’re really trying to focus on is getting our own names out there. We need something that isn’t too risky, but will give us some acclaim.” She spoke as if she was thinking heavily on the subject, making her younger brother nod and add, “Something that wouldn’t be difficult to get through, either.”

Harry only had to think for a second before he figured something out. “Libel. Libel in media is illegal in much of Muggle society, but not here. Libel is something plenty of politicians deal with, regardless of political belief. They’d be all for it and would all support you two.”

Their eyes widened and they looked at each other as if they should have known. Unfortunately, it spurred a half-hour conversation on the schematics of it. Harry did his best to hide his impatience and eventually got the conversation back on track. They nearly dismissed his revival of the topic of Pawk’s bill but agreed that they were voting in favor of it. His sigh of relief was nearly audible. When they offered more drinks, he politely declined and said he had to get going to meet a friend, but thanked them for conversation and paid for their drinks thus far.

He headed back home, nearly speed-walking, to avoid any attention. Especially from journalists. When he arrived home he found another letter waiting for him and two more Daily Prophets, each covering updates in the case against Louis Luther.

He brought it all inside and set the papers on the coffee table before taking his letter into the kitchen. It was from Hermione. Pawk and her spoke with Effie Crow and brought up St. Mungo's reform to get Crow to help in converting older members of Luther’s failed opposition. She got excited by the idea and immediately got to sending letters to a few of them, in hopes of arranging a meeting tomorrow before the vote. Apparently, Pawk was putting off her list of The Silent Seven in order to prepare Crow to convince the older members to vote for her. Harry decided to write a letter to Pawk, asking for her final name with the offer of taking care of it for her.

He was so consumed in his work that he hardly even noticed Draco was also in the kitchen, watching him.

Draco wouldn’t say he was attracted to power, but in a way, he was. He was attracted to people who knew what they wanted, who had ambitions, who would do anything to get what they wanted. He always thought it was part of some weird complex due to feeling powerless all his life. Now all he wanted to do was sexually dominate powerful people. Harry was the perfect candidate. Even when he gave up politics, he would be running a department centered around taking down abusers. He’d work directly with the Aurors, and in a way, have a bit of power over them.

But Harry also had something about him that made him seem untouchable. He was a virgin and he lived in his own little bubble of power. No one could touch him. Not even Draco. Even when they cuddled, only once was Draco ever the one to be touching Harry, and they were asleep for almost all of it.

Harry seemed to live in his own little world and Draco felt that he could only admire from a distance, never having, only pining. A pained and frustrated expression took over his face as he saw Harry hadn’t even noticed him. He shifted a bit, hoping the movement would catch his eye, but it didn’t. He picked up his journal and pen, doing a bit of writing. Though it wasn’t time yet, he decided to go ahead and write out a scene in which the lawyer would pine for the photographer. Though he tried to focus on the reflective scene, he kept looking up at Harry, waiting to be seen. If they were together it would be different. If they were together, Draco would have no qualms in straddling Harry’s lap and kissing him for attention. But he couldn’t do that. His heart lurched forward like a stray animal to a warm soul, what his body wished it could do. He wrote as quickly as he could, letting all of his feelings out.

Part of him wondered why he didn’t just approach Harry, but then again, he seemed busy with his work. His powerful political work which made Draco want him all over again. It made him want something he couldn’t have. He was okay with waiting for a relationship, that hadn’t changed, but it had grown more difficult. They already acted like a couple. So much had changed. What would really be different when they got together? Did Harry really need to wait? He pulled himself from that frustrating train of thought with the reminder that Harry had legitimate reasons for waiting and he needed to respect them.

He looked back at Harry. The ache in his chest was sweet and it brought a sad smile to his face. His eyes were full of love though his heart burned. He took a deep breath and let out a resigned sigh. In the end, he took the pain. The fact that it was because of Harry made the ache feel good. He considered himself lucky to experience something as pure as this. Even if it hurt, it was still good.

Draco finally tore his attention from Harry and continued to write, his own words becoming strangely bitter, but he went with it. It was strange to see himself writing down such raw emotions that he didn’t often see in his novels. He had a moment of doubt. He wondered if the emotions would make sense or if they would seem natural, but he was writing them as he felt them, so they must make some level of sense, even though emotions weren’t always logical. He lost himself in his feelings and found himself writing out quite a bittersweet scene. In his frustrated and cunning mood, he decided that perhaps, he ought to show his newest scene to Harry. He smiled to himself and set the journal down. While he waited for Harry to finish up, he made himself a snack.

Harry, meanwhile, was sending off letter after letter, writing like he was running out of time. He wrote as if tomorrow wouldn’t arrive and he only had now.

Demetrius Preston, the final member of The Silent Seven, had to be convinced with the appeal of having his name behind a piece of history. But his vote was sealed. After he notified Pawk, he went to his next order of business: Pansy Parkinson.

He asked her about her stance on Pawk’s bill, and just as Hermione predicted, she supported it. He asked her to convince younger members of Luther’s old following to give it a chance and she responding by jokingly asking what was in it for her. Harry knew very well that it was a joke, but he also knew the power of owing someone a favor, so he made it even then and there. He offered her positive press and a role in a very good-looking project: the revamp of Crow's St Mungo's reform. Though it would require a small donation and some work to make the reform fit more modern needs, Pansy accepted.

Harry wrote a letter of recommendation to Crow, saying she shouldn't do the reform alone since a partner would make it look more trustworthy, and two strong Slytherin women working for a good cause would reflect well on the wrongfully criticized house. He also recommended Greenwood to sponsor the reform, but that was only to further Greenwood's debt just in case.

His third set of business was sending off a short letter to Greenwood, notifying him of the good news. He graciously accepted, but Harry knew how Greenwood really felt about it. He knew he made Greenwood nervous because he was putting the man in debt while he was without the influence and leverage he was used to. Harry had all the cards and he was forcing Greenwood to play his game. Really, he was forcing everyone to play his game. By tossing around favors, he got the Searcy siblings’ support, Crow and Pansy’s influence, and Greenwood’s unwavering subordination. Through charm he got Alexis Wright’s vote. With subtle manipulation he got Crow on their side, not to mention how he built up and knocked down Luther’s career and political party at will, for the premeditated purpose of eating up the opposition, one by one. He had everything at his disposal. He made the game, he gave everyone their cards, and still, he told them what moves to make. He had carefully orchestrated a dance that everyone followed flawlessly. At no point was he not in complete control. For reasons that he wasn’t proud of, he actually enjoyed his work. It was strangely fun. But he could never confess that.

With the investigation of Luther’s case, Harry hoped that maybe Pawk’s bill would be pushed back a day or two for Wizengamot to determine his sentence, which would likely be Azkaban.

Without any work to focus on, like a lost puppy, Harry got up in search of Draco. He wandered around until he found the blonde’s bedroom door shut. He knocked and waited until Draco told him to come in. He entered with eyes full of adoration, though the adrenaline of power was still pumping through his veins.

“Hi.” He said softly as he closed the door behind him. “What are you doing?”

Draco couldn’t help but to smile at his cute Harry was. “Oh, I just finished a bit of writing. I got ahead of myself and wrote out a little scene for the future, just before they get together.”

“Can I read it?” Harry really didn’t have the patience to wait until the book was published. He was too invested as is.

So Draco handed over the book, and waited for a reaction.

In it, the lawyer found poetry in his lover. His lover who moved with the power of the ocean, laughed with the folly of leaves in the breeze, stole the rays of the sun and wore them as a halo, and scorched his fingerprints into the flesh of everyone he met with the fire of his spirit. A lover the protagonist couldn't have. And suddenly, the ocean was stormy, the wind was a hurricane, the light was blinding, and the fire turned everything to ash. It was all too much and not enough, but whether he escaped the flame or burned forever, the protagonist knew he would never be satisfied.

Draco saw a tear fall from Harry's face and it brought a smile to his. He didn't like the idea of hurting Harry, but it felt good. _'Here'_, he thought to himself, _'here is all my pain, here is all my hurt. Now it's your turn. Feel what I feel.'_ He once heard that revenge was sweet, and this was as sweet as any wine.

Pain had never been so satisfying.

And then, it wasn’t.

He shifted from where he sat in the bed. He wanted to keep the good feeling that had come from making Harry feel the way he felt, but all of a sudden, it was gone and he only felt bad. Harry wiped away his tear and gave a smile, “It’s lovely.” But Draco knew that wasn’t completely true. He gave in to his feelings and opened up his arms. “Come here.”

Harry caved inward and crawled into Draco’s arms, mumbling, “I don’t like sad things. It’s really good, but sad.”

Draco held him and let a hand stroke his back. Perhaps he was a bit too petty with his feelings and now he regretted it. He kept Harry close and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling.

“Is that how you feel?” Harry couldn’t help but to feel at-fault. He knew a scene like that couldn’t come from no where. Something about it was just a bit too personal, and he couldn’t help but to ask.

“A bit.” The blonde confessed. “But not nearly as dramatic as I made it in the book.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be. There’s nothing to apologize for.” He reassured, unwilling to let Harry blame himself. “If I genuinely had a problem with waiting, I would have said so. But I didn’t and I still don’t. I’m okay with waiting. It doesn’t hurt me. I’m not hurt by it.”

“I am.” Harry confessed, looking up at Draco. “Being in your arms hurts because I know I’m not yours. Not really.”

“You’re my husband."

“That isn’t real, Draco. It isn’t and you know it.” He reached up and grabbed his necklace, sending a warmth through the blonde. “But this, this is real. We’re real. Not some stupid marriage contract. I want us to be real and I hate that I can’t manage that right now.”

Draco could only stare a few moments. He had no idea Harry felt that way. “I-I didn’t know.” He was at a loss. He wanted to say something more useful, but his mind was blank. “Are you okay?”

Harry clutched the necklace tighter and pressed his forehead to Draco’s chest. “Yes. Just stay with me for a while.”

So they did. They spent the next few hours in Draco’s bed, cooked dinner together, ate, and their work was forgotten. They spent the evening on the sofa, drinking wine and spilling secrets, all while sitting far too close to just be friends.

In the end, Draco put away the wine and Harry washed the glasses. They made their way down the hall and toward the bedrooms, but before they could say goodnight to each other, Harry gripped the sleeve of Draco’s shirt with flushed cheeks and a downward gaze.

“I don’t want to go to bed alone.”

And he didn’t.


	29. Paris

That night, Draco laid in Harry's bed with the man draped on his chest, his head on one shoulder, just like when they danced. Draco looked down and saw that if he wanted, he could kiss the other on the forehead. But he didn't think they were close enough just yet for something so intimate and loving. Perhaps it was the love behind such a move that made him hesitate. Harry, on the other head, was more focused on the fact that his heart was fluttering and he didn't feel like he was alone. It was warm and he loved the way Draco smelt without his cologne. He buried his face in the blonde's shoulder and closed his eyes.

They woke up at each other's sides, but facing each other. It nearly stopped Draco's heart to be greeted by Harry's trimmed beard and soft green eyes first thing in the morning.

Harry, on the other hand, barely escaped the morning with his virginity intact. He wanted to do so many things with the man who laid next to him. But he didn’t. He held back. Instead, he woke up with a boner that he took care of in the shower. He thought he had gotten away with it, but at breakfast, Draco commented, “It’s a shame you took care of yourself in the shower when I was right next to you.”

Harry was so surprised he nearly dropped a hot pan of eggs onto himself. He looked at Draco with wide eyes while his cheeks and the tops of his exposed shoulders turned red.

“At the very least, I would like to lose my virginity to someone I’m in a relationship with.” Harry excused, making Draco chuckle.

“Reminds me of how I lost mine. On the Astronomy Tower with a Hufflepuff.”

If possible, Harry’s eyes would have widened even more. “On the Astronomy Tower?!”

“It was at night and we had blankets. It was no big deal.”

Harry stared at him a few moment before shaking his head. “I’m worried to give you my virginity.”

“Don’t be. I’d take my time with you. It would be sweet.” He clutched the lily that hung from his neck and smirked. “I can be very romantic. We could eat that chocolate you love and drink wine while I .....” He never finished his sentence.

Harry huffed and went pink yet again. He looked away and tried not to shiver at the warmth. “Shut up. I have to go to work.”

“While you’re off playing politics, I’m going to spend my day in Paris, the city of love! I could use some inspiration. And Scotland is so dreary this time of year.”

“It’s dreary all the fucking time. That’s why I like it here.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?” He was genuinely surprised the weather was a reason to like Scotland.

“I love rain.”

The blonde let out a soft laugh and helped with breakfast. They ate together, got dressed, and took turns in the Floo, one to Paris and one to London.

Upon arriving, Harry was pleasantly surprised to find out that Pawk’s bill was being pushed back to make time for Luther’s case, which was expected to last two or three days.

Day one consisted of them listening to the evidence and to Luther’s defense. The evidence included seven eyewitness accounts, the spells being traced to Luther’s wand, proof of injuries in the Muggle victims, and Luther himself confessing to the crimes. However, his defense was that he didn’t actually intend on hurting anyone. At that point, Harry just tuned it out and shifted in his seat. He managed to situate himself with his hand at the hem of his robes. This allowed him to reach in and subtly pull out the lily charm, squeezing it at random. With his mind already made, he was bored and much preferred to think of Draco.

Draco arrived at the Zambi villa and spent the late morning with Blaise. They spoke of Draco’s book and he ended up unveiling and planning out much of the plot with his friend. It excited him so much that he sent off a letter to Seamus about it.

They retired to the study and Draco wrote while Blaise worked on cross-stitch, a surprising and somewhat secretive hobby of his. He actually had a contract going with a fashion company, with whom he sold his designs. The room was quiet and calm. A window was cracked to let in the cool January air. The birds still sang and there was a bit of a rustle whenever there was a breeze. It was relaxing enough and it made Draco realize why Harry always turned to nature when he was stressed. Speaking of Harry, right as he got in to his writing, his chest glowed with warmth. He smiled to himself and squeezed back, wondering what could have happened to make work so boring today.

After a few hours of silently working on their hobbies, and Draco secretly flirting with Harry, Blaise went and got the newest copy of The Daily Prophet. Even in Paris, they were still subscribed to it, though it translated itself into French. Still, Draco and Blaise both read the headline of Luther’s case beginning that day in Wizengamot. That explained why Harry was so bored. Draco figured the lad had already made up his mind and didn’t need to hear any more evidence.

They also read an article more focused on Harry and The Cupboard Project. It mentioned that the lawyer sponsoring it had been revealed as Daniel Greenwood, the man who got Lucius Malfoy off in exchange for the names of Death Eaters. Though it gave Harry a mind criticism, it commended Greenwood for his good work. Blaise was very confused, but Draco explained the logic behind it.

“He was in a vulnerable position. He had enough public support to have something to lose, but he still had something to prove. He was in too perfect of a position to make mistakes or take risks.”

Blaise couldn’t help but to appreciate the genius behind it. “Isn’t it true that the Sorting Hat couldn’t figure of whether to put Harry in Slytherin or Gryffindor?”

“Yea. In the end it came down to preference, or something like that.”

There was also an article about Draco. It posed the stance that Draco and Harry genuinely liked each other, and that there was no magic or ulterior motives behind it. It asked if he truly deserves the title of "Blood Traitor", that many Death Eaters had given him. After listing all the things he’s been in the news for; like Harry testifying that he was never a true a Death Eater, his friendship with prominent ex-rebel Seamus Finnigan, and his potential romance with Harry Potter himself; the article determined that Draco likely was a “Blood Traitor”. Even the article itself used quotations around the term, as if to question it’s legitimacy.

The article made Draco roll back his long sleeve. He hasn’t worn short-sleeves in months and it’s all because of the mistake on his arm. He’s spent the past few months averting his eyes from the area in shame. The last time he saw it was shortly after moving in with Harry, and then, he saw the Dark Mark seemed to have faded. He was proud of that. But now, seeing the area for the first time in months, he wanted to cry when he saw the mark was almost gone. He beamed at the sight of a pink and raw scar, surrounded by a few splotches of black ink that didn’t resemble anything at all.

“Draco, that’s wonderful!” Blaise exclaimed upon seeing what remained of the mark. “Just in time for the start of spring. I bet the ink will be gone by next month.” He said as he looked over the area. “Maybe you’ll be left with a cool scar like your little boyfriend. Or, perhaps, the scar will fade too and you’ll have a clean slate.”

Draco considered both options and very quickly found that he had no preference. “I just want the bloody mark to be gone”

For lunch, they went to a little restaurant in wizarding Paris. While there, Draco was followed by a few journalists, snapping pictures and asking about him and Harry. One had the balls to ask Draco if he and Lucius’ plot to manipulate Harry was working. Draco couldn’t hold his tongue. In a French that was much more proper than usual, he said very simply that he and his father were estranged, and that he danced with Harry because he bloody wanted to.

Blaise gave him a very subtle high-five as they walked into the restaurant.

There they sat in a rose-tinted photograph of the way things were. Sitting in a nice restaurant, speaking French, eating fine foods and deserts, drinking wine, and gossiping. It was a perfect image of the past with all the bad glossed-over and swept under a rug. It was almost refreshing. As much as he didn't want to live in the past, or even be reminded too much of it, Draco felt oddly refreshed to revisit some of the good.

Harry, meanwhile, was bored out of his mind. The only thing keeping him entertained was watching Pansy occasionally whisper back and forth to people he recognized as being previous members of Luther's party. He knew she was probably getting ahead on convincing them to vote for Pawk and a small smile of pride slipped onto his face. He also saw Crow sitting among the older members of the collapsed party. When the hearing was finally called to an end, just after lunch, it took all of Harry's self-control not to audibly sigh in relief.

In the lobby, Crow managed to mumble to him that she could get two votes in, as she passed by, so it wouldn't look like they were communicating. She couldn't be seen as connected to Harry if she was to continue to influence the older members. Pansy didn't have that limitation and walked right up to him to tell him that she could definitely get in three votes from the younger four. Since he knew they were at least trying, he wrote a letter to Alex when he got home. He told him that Effie Crow and Pansy Parkinson were going to be revamping the failed St. Mungo's reform and that Daniel Greenwood was sponsoring it. He knew they would find it suspicious that the press knew about it before they announced it, but he didn't care too much about that. They deserved a reward for sticking to their word. It also prevented Crow, who Harry didn't trust as much, from backing out of the reform and leaving Pansy high and dry. He received a quick reply that the story would be out tomorrow, but likely a side article to the main one about Luther's trial.

Harry took a deep breath and felt a soft smile spread across his face. It felt like everything was coming together. He was inching closer and closer to being able to focus on The Cupboard Project. Though it was cold and there wasn't much nature to enjoy, he found himself putting on more casual clothes and the coat Draco got him. He stepped outside and ended up sitting against a tree just on the edge of the forest he lived by.

Though it was cold, his cheeks were kind of numb, and his nose was suddenly very runny, he enjoyed himself. His first instincts was actually to wipe his nose on the sleeve of his jacket, but when he remembered how expensive it was and that Draco had got it for him, his pulled his wrist away from his face before it even touched. He looked around and saw absolutely no alternative, so he bend one knee and very awkwardly wiped his nose on the kneecap of his jeans. To say he felt like a total idiot would be an understatement. The fact that no one saw him was really the only thing that made it worth it.

For as cold as it was, the birds still sang and the sun’s rays still felt warm. He smiled to himself and leaned his head back onto the tree he sat against, just breathing. For as in-control and confident he was in his work, it was nice to be able to slow down and relax.

Draco really was on to something when he suspected Harry might be a bit of a bottom.

“What the hell are you doing out in this weather? You’ll catch a cold!” Harry opened his eyes at the voice and saw Draco standing just outside the front door. He grinned and gave a shrug. “It’s nice out.”

“Come inside.” He said as he went back into their house.

Harry got up with a grin and made his way back inside, pulling off his coat as he entered the sitting room. “Have fun in Paris?”

“Of course. Blaise and I had lunch and I wrote some more. We talked about the plot and finished ironing out some details. I sent a letter to Seamus about it because I have to keep him in the loop.” A small smile slipped onto his face and he took a step towards Harry. “And _someone_ kept playing with his necklace, which distracted me quite a bit.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Sounds quite annoying. I can’t imagine why someone would want to bother you.”

“Especially when this particular person is suppose to be sentencing a man who committed violent crimes.”

Harry didn’t even blink. “What an idiot this person must be, though his intentions must be very noble and romantic.”

Draco rolled his eyes and planted a kiss on Harry’s cheek, giving him a surprised expression and red cheeks. He chuckled and took a seat on the sofa. “I’m putting that in my book.”

“Putting what in?”

“How easy it is to make you blush. I’m giving that trait to the lawyer.”

Harry took a seat beside Draco and looked over at the enchanted journal in his hands. “What are their names anyways?”

“Oh.” He realized he never told Harry his characters names. “The lawyer is Amell Adler and the photographer is Othello Hamel.”

Harry started off nodding, but then he cracked a smile and shook his head. “Have you noticed that a lot of people seem to have their first and last name start with the same letter?”

“Yea, it’s charming.” Draco responded, only to turn and see that Harry’s bewilderment did not agree.

“It isn’t charming, it’s .....” He trailed off a moment. “I don’t know. It isn’t bad but it isn’t charming.”

Draco just laughed and began writing again. “I like it.”

“It isn’t bad. I don’t know. I think it’s because so many people at Hogwarts have their names done that way. There’s just such a high concentration in one place, so it seems strange.”

“Why are we talking about this? How did the trial go?” Draco asked, wanting to change the obscure subject.

Harry only shrugged. “It was fine, I suppose. I’ve already made my decision and it seems most others have as well. With the public so against him, there’s no doubt he’ll end up in Azkaban.” He couldn’t help but to feel just a bit proud, knowing that it was all because of him.

“Speaking of Wizengamot, I got a letter from Pansy today, just before I left Paris.” He set the journal down in his lap and turned to Harry. “She told me that you offered her a spot in Crow’s revival of the St. Mungo’s reform, in exchange for influencing younger members of Luther’s old party to vote for Pawk’s bill. Quite complicated, yea? I knew you supported Pawk and wanted to get her some votes, but I didn’t realize just how far you were willing to go to get those votes. You must also have some connection to Crow given that you were able to make such a promise.”

Harry was completely frozen. He felt as if his entire career in Wizengamot was slowly being figured out and laid before him. Something about it made him want to get defensive, as if he was being accused of something. But he also knew that it was shame. He'd manipulated, destroyed Crow's reputation, ruined Luther's life, put Greenwood in debt, and gave subtle threats to get what he wanted. He didn't want Draco to think of him differently for all of that, and the fact that he didn't feel bad about it. Not really.

“I’m impressed.”

That took Harry by surprise.

“I didn’t think you had it in you, Harry. But I must admit, I think it’s kind of hot. You’re acting all powerful and in-charge.” He threw out with a wink. Maybe it was how close they had become that night, or perhaps it was boner Harry had woken up with, but Draco was feeling quite confident and intimate.

Harry blushed and looked away. “Seriously?” He didn’t wait for an answer, instead, he decided to play along. “Well is that what you want? A powerful man?” He sat up a bit straighter, trying to become taller than Draco.

Draco smirked and did the same, very easily reaching above the other. “Yes, actually. It’ll make it all the more satisfying to pin you down.”

A wave of heat and excitement rushed between his legs and Harry shifted in his seat, any confidence visibly leaving his face. He looked into the grey eyes before him and leaned back a bit, almost intimidated. At the very least, he had no idea what he was meant to say. He had no clue how to respond to something so bold.

“Excited that easily?” He chuckled, mostly out of pride. “Come on, Potter. I like a good fight.” He tilted his head and watched as Harry struggled to come up with a response, but was rendered speechless. “Cat got your tongue?” He didn’t even realize that he was slowly leaning closer until he found himself almost leaning over the man.

“No.” Harry said back, finally finding his voice. “I don’t get pinned down, Malfoy.” He lurched forward, nearly knocking Draco down from surprise. It was accidental but he kept his expression indifferent. Now he was leaning over the blonde and his eyes were filled with a mischief that has run in his family for generations. “You of all people should know that I never go down without a fight, and I always find a way out. You can’t win, love.”

Draco was hit with the same excitement that had rushed through Harry and he bit his lip. “Not anymore. Just me and you, no magic, no help, I’ll always win.” He stayed leaned back, not even bothering to try and reassert himself. Instead, he stayed low and put his lips by Harry’s ear, whispering, “Don’t think I-”

His words were cut off by Harry pulling away and pressing his ear and shoulder together.

The blonde let out a soft laugh. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re so sensitive you can’t handle having your ear whispered in.” He wasn’t even trying to be sensual anymore. He only thought it hilarious.

“Sod off.” He rubbed his ear. “What were you saying?”

Draco tried to say it again, but cut himself off with a giggle. “Sorry, it was hilarious.” He smirked. “Anyways, what I meant to say was that you shouldn’t think I’ve forgotten what happened on Christmas Eve. Your teasing and when you ate my gingerbread door. I’m still going to get you for that. And it’s coming ..... closer and closer.”

Harry only frowned. “I let you eat my door!”

“It’s about the principle of it! You stole my door, ate it, and you teased me. I’ll have my revenge, Potter!”

Harry grinned and opened his arms. “Go ahead, then.” He was daring Draco to pounce.

“No. Not yet. I’ll do it when we’re officially together, so I can do _sooo_, so much to you.” He made sure to moan his words just a bit.

His jaw dropped and he blinked a few times. “D-Do what? What are you planning to do to me?!”

Draco grinned. “Depends on what you’d let me do to you. I suppose I’d start with that neck of yours. It seems to be a bit sensitive. I’d really like to touch places that I know, no one ever has before ..... and to kiss where you’ve only dreamed lips would be.” He watched Harry’s lower lip give a soft tremble, looking as if he had never been spoken to this way. He looked so wide-eyed and innocent. “Not so tough now, are you?”

Harry bit his lip and shifted ever-so-slightly, his body hardly even moving an inch. “Are you serious?”

“I swear it, Potter.” He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “Out of curiosity, how far would you let me go?” There was a note of seriousness behind his words. He wasn’t just teasing, he really wanted to know.

Harry gave a dry swallow and thought a moment, looking away. “Well, uhm.” He paused again, unsure of how to word his thoughts. “I trust you, Draco. I really do, but, ah. I ..... I wouldn’t want to uhm.” He stopped again, his cheeks turning red. He hid his face in his hands and tried to collect himself to finally get out the words that were hung in his throat. “I don’t want to have sex, not yet. And, I also don’t want to be seen naked. I’d just like to keep my knickers on, if that’s okay.”

Draco shifted and his tough expressed fell to show something much softer. “Harry, that’ll always be okay. Boundaries will never disappoint me or hurt my feelings. I honestly feel the same way.”

Harry seemed a lot less nervous and relaxed a bit. “Thank you.”

The blonde leaned forward and kissed his cheek again, making them turn red. “It’s nothing, love.”

Harry grinned to himself and looked away. “I think I might be falling in love with you.”

“Are you? Falling?” He was touched and ecstatic but his words sounded awkward. He almost didn't know how to respond to something so heavy. This was everything he had ever wanted, finally unfolding before his eyes. A drum beat in his chest, switching up rhythms and getting faster and faster. His anxious mind kept time to the music, counting the second until Harry said something.

“No.” His eyebrows slowly furrowed. “I don’t think I’m falling in love, this is something else. I want to love you, Draco. I’m choosing to love you.” It wasn't like those songs of love taking someone by surprise or being caught up in a burning flame. This was a path he chose to walk because Draco was the one he wanted.

The blonde beamed. “I felt the same way. At some point I knew I was falling, and I chose to let it happen. I wanted it to happen. I ..... I can’t even begin to tell you how happy that makes me.” He pulled Harry close and wrapped him in a hug. He buried his face in the other’s wild curls and felt the gentle scrape of stubble against his neck. It was all so sweet and it warmed him to know that his feelings were finally, completely, requited.

Harry smiled to himself and buried his face in the crook of Draco's neck. His arms wrapped around the other and he held back the urge to laugh from joy. He closed his eyes and eventually their bodies shifted to lie back on the sofa together. Though their best efforts went into not falling asleep, they both ended up losing bits of time as they drifted in an out.

Once more, they didn't go to bed alone.


	30. Bitter Fruit

The cheer was loud and just a bit to sudden.

The Head Warlock found it a tad inappropriate, but allowed it.

Louis Luther was found guilty of three counts of magical assault and exposing magic to Muggles. The sentence; Azkaban.

For one long and excruciating moment, Harry was pulled into an ocean of anxiety and fear that he didn’t understand. This was suppose to be a good moment, so why was one little noise bothering him? He was suppose to be happy, so why was he panicking on the inside?

He felt hot and was worried that he had started sweating, his mouth felt dry and he feared he might cough if he spoke too much, his smile was forced and his eyes a bit frantic. He desperately wanted everyone to just shut up and leave. His eyes flickered to the Head Warlock at every chance, waiting for the man to tell them they could leave. The words he spoke were short and curt from his fear of choking. Hesitation clouded him when he went to shake hands for his fear of his own potentially clammy palms. He was so shaken by a sound that should have made him happy. The sound of the good members of Wizengamot celebrating a justice that Harry himself had started. He got what he wanted, so why was he afraid? Why did anxiety swim in him like a shark in water, searching for blood? Why now? Why when he was suppose to be happy? The questions only made him angry.

His anger threatened to burst through as he was made to speak and shake hands with more people, two things he very much didn’t want to do. All he wanted was to leave, but he couldn’t until the Head Warlock ended the meeting. Fear rose within him and eventually overcame even the frustration. A dull ache settled in his head and a desperation introduced itself to his emotional cocktail of anxiety and anger, fear and frustration. He was so desperate to leave. Why was this taking so damn long? Why couldn't be just be normal? And with that, self-loathing was also thrown in to the mix.

The Head Warlock seemed to take his time in calling the meeting to an end, but it finally happened.

Harry was stuck behind people who didn’t walk as quickly as he would have liked, and his own exasperation nearly made him tear up. He just wanted to go home.

He hurried into a Floo and once he was home, he leaned back against the cool wall and sank to the floor. He pulled his robe off and didn’t care that he was only left in a pair of dress pants. The robes were tossed across the room and he let out a soft whine.

“Harry?”

He looked up to see Draco had entered the sitting room, crouched slightly to see Harry sitting in the Floo.

"Are you alright?"

"Yea, I'm fine." He sat up some and got off the wall, starting to scoot out of the Floo. Halfway out, he realized that there was no need for him to lie. He could trust Draco, he could tell Draco, but he didn't want to be a bother. It couldn't be easy to deal with him. He didn't want to bother Draco with his problems.

Draco could see that Harry was conflicted with something, so he sat by the Floo and turned to the other. "What's wrong?"

Harry swallowed and could feel a nervousness within him. It wasn't as bad as before, but it was still there, waiting for something to go wrong. "We convicted Luther. He's going to Azkaban. I uh, I guess some people were really excited about that and they cheered." He shook his head as if he was disappointed in himself. "I suppose the cheer was a bit sudden and the meeting went on and I couldn't just leave." He stopped and stared down at his legs. "I don't even know why I'm doing this. I should be happy, I am happy. A bit. But I'm also, a bit freaked out, I guess. I don't know why I can't just be normal."

A hand rested on Harry's leg which made him jump, and then be hit with another wave of self-loathing. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Is this alright?" Draco asked, ready to move his hand away if that's what Harry wanted.

"It's fine."

Draco wanted to make things better, but he hardly knew how. "This isn't something you can bounce back from with a few months of self-care. I know you've been trying, and I think that's wonderful, but you can't fix everything. That just isn't realistic. Some things might go away today, others in ten years, some things are here to stay, but it will get easier. You spent years in that house, it'll take time." He thought a moment and tried to make a suggestion. "Would you like to drink wine and eat chocolate?"

Harry couldn't help but to crack a smile. "I'd love to." He stood up and mumbled something about changing clothes as he went down the hall.

Draco stood and headed into the kitchen, pouring two glasses of wine and pulling some of Harry's chocolate out of the fridge. He went back to the sofa and set everything down on the coffee table. He cast a quick charm to light the fire while he waited for Harry to return. When he did, he did so in his pajamas, completely done with the day.

They started off sitting in the couch, eating and drinking, but as one glass of wine became a second, they inevitably ended up in each other’s arms. Draco laid back with Harry’s head resting on his chest, a hand playing with his hair. Harry’s mouth tasted like bitter fruits and dark chocolate, a taste he’s begun to associate with Draco and has fallen equally in love with. He moved to rest his chin on the blonde’s chest and stared up into those questioning grey eyes.

“Yes?” He asked in a somewhat teasing tone.

Harry did his best to shrug from his awkward position. His eyes glanced down to the pink lips before him. They were formed somewhat awkwardly in a beautiful pale pink. He wanted to know their shape. Maybe he was drunk, and maybe this was a bad idea, but he looked back into those grey eyes and didn’t give a single fuck about any of that. All he knew was that he wanted this.

Draco was very familiar with the way Harry’s eyes moved and knew what he wanted to do. He wanted it too. “You want to kiss me.” It was a statement, rather than a question, but it demanded an answer all the same.

Harry looked away for a moment before his eyes flickered back to the grey ones. “Uhm, y-”

He was cut off by the fire immediately dispelling and their fireplace stretching for someone to enter through the Floo.

They looked over and were met with Narcissa Malfoy, looking incredibly worried. She was about to say something as she stepped out, but when she saw them in each other’s arms with wine and chocolate about, she hesitated. “Oh, am I interrupting something?” Her voice almost sounded broken by some unknown sadness.

“Not at all, Mrs. Malfoy.” Harry said as he got off of Draco. He saw how worried she looked and made room for her to take a seat between himself and Draco. “Are you alright?”

She sat down and let a few tears fall from her face, wrapping her arms around Draco and keeping him close.

“Mum, what’s going on?” He softly asked as he held her in return, rubbing her back in an attempt at comforting her.

She wiped her eyes and shook her head. “Astoria Greengrass.” She sniffled out the name. “She’s in St. Mungo’s in a coma, they don’t know when she’ll wake up.”

Draco continued to comfort her, but found himself a bit confused. They were never particularly close to the Greengrass family, and he only vaguely knew Astoria due to their old statuses as purebloods. It was sad that she was in such a state, but he didn’t understand why his mother was so emotionally distraught by this happening to someone she didn’t know very well. He also wasn’t sure why she felt the need to come and tell him about it.

She took a few deep breaths and explained further. “Sh-She was attacked by some man in a skull mask only a few hours ago, right in the middle of Diagon Alley. The spell, i-it, it wasn’t one that anyone recognized. All we know is that she’s asleep.” She sniffled again and wiped her eyes. “I’m afraid because a little after she was checked-in, the Healers discovered the words ‘Blood Traitor’ carved into her arm. All these news outlets have been calling you one, saying you’re a hero, which is fine, but I don’t want that happening to you!” She pulled out a copy of The Daily Prophet from her robes and flipped it over to a side article. “There, they just published one today.”

Draco and Harry leaned over to look the article over and it argued that Draco was doubtlessly a hero. It argued in favor of Draco and Harry’s friendship and potential relationship, in favor of he and Seamus’ friendship, and it took Draco’s quote to a French journalist if he and his father being estranged. Harry also noted the article about Pansy, Crow, and Greenwood's hospital reforms, as promised. But in the article on Draco, the last line even said, "The final verdict on Draco Malfoy; doubtlessly a blood traitor."

"They say the Auror's are on it and that they're tracking him down, but I just don't know. I don't want you leaving this house until that monster is caught!" She took a deep breath and looked down at the ground. "They've taken your father in for questioning to see if he knows anything about it. They think he could come up with a list of potential suspects, or at the least, potential targets, and I don't doubt that your name will end up pretty high on the list considering no one else has renounced their old life as much as you have. I mean it Draco, perhaps you ought to come home."

Harry, as much as he personally didn't want Draco to leave, had other reasons. "I'm not sure that would be a good idea. If Draco is high on the list and isn't seen in public then Malfoy Manor would be the most logical place to try to find him. Nobody knows he's living here. This might be safest place for him."

Narcissa nodded and sniffled again, wiping her eyes. "Yes, of course. You're right. But I mean it Draco, do not leave."

"I won't, I promise." He said this under the assumption that the man would be caught in a few days, or perhaps a week. Really, his social life had never fluttered as much as it did now. He wrote regular letters to Seamus, met up with Pansy every week, and went to Paris to see Blaise every few days. He’d never been so happy with his social life.

Part of Harry felt as if this was the bad and terrible thing that his anxiety had been waiting for. Something would happen, Draco would be found, and he’d get struck by a spell that he may never wake up from. He shook the thought and refocused on the situation before him. He offered Narcissa a glass of wine or food, but she declined both.

She said she ought to go home and retire to bed. The day had worn her out, but she planned to visit Astoria the next morning.

When she left, Draco and Harry were still pretty shaken from the news. They spent the rest of the afternoon in each other’s arms, only parting to eat dinner. Neither felt like cooking so they just had leftovers.

Today hadn’t been the best day for either of them and it reduced them to silent masses in each other’s arms. But they at least enjoyed that part. After dinner, they each got ready for bed, but instead of Harry’s smaller one, he was brought into his old room. The one he had painted and decorated to remind him of some enchanted forest. A form of escapism.

So they ran away together in their heads, lying in bed, and Harry held Draco, needing to protect him with all of his soul.


	31. Lover

Draco spent the next few days fairly content with his life.

He spent a lot of time writing since he had nothing better to do. He wrote and sent out letters to Pansy, Blaise, and Seamus, explaining his situation, they all wished him the best and promised to visit.

His story moved on and got him excited for what his romance in real life may hold. His lawyer’s walls had been broken down and the photographer introduced him to love and warmth. They were in love and almost together, he just needed something to push them. In the end, he decided that the lawyer would be the one to make the move over dinner. He wrote out the scene and felt strangely satisfied with what he had done. All the tension, unspoken feelings, and pining has finally come to a close. But now he was a bit worried. Many of his novels would end after the two main characters finally got together, but this didn’t feel like it was over. The lawyer was still sponsoring an important bill and the photographer had only two weeks left to finish his portfolio for an important job interview. Their love might have reached an important and long-awaited point, but this story wasn’t over. They still had lives and things to figure out. Should they eventually move in together? How would the lawyer cope when he hasn’t technically come out as liking men? Would their honeymoon phase fade into eternal embers, always warm and dangerous, waiting to be stoked into passionate flames when the mood hits them. It felt as if there was still so much to be done. Maybe his story didn’t need to end.

So he wrote on.

Three chapters later and the lawyer was spending his first night in the photographer’s flat. Things were getting a bit steamy, but he wasn’t sure that he was ready. Not only were his characters still new to their relationship, but he didn’t think he was very comfortable with writing the scene. So he had things calm down a bit and moved on to a scene about cuddling. He took a bit of inspiration from his session with Harry, but instead of being interrupted, they kissed.

Draco also spent some time keeping up with the news. He read all about Luther’s sentencing, the masked attacker, celebrity gossip, and other little pieces of news. He read on a series about people afflicted with lycanthropy, their struggles and the way they cope with their transformations. It was very educational and it made him feel stupid for having ever thought negatively about them.

He also came across an article about Hermione that Harry had very angrily addressed when he got home that day. It dragged her for being friends with Crow long before the woman had turned her attitude around. Harry told him that Hermione said she didn’t mind since her name had been through much worse, but Harry was determined to get to the bottom on who had exposed their friendship to begin with. Draco hadn’t even known about it until then, and it made him curious.

He knew that Harry had to be connected to Crow, since he was able to get Pansy such a good position in her project. But now, this made Hermione connected to her as well. And he knew that Harry and Pawk were connected too, which made him wonder about what all Harry was getting up to.

Harry also told Draco that the article made Crow feel bad, so she promised to get two of her stuffier friends to vote in favor of The Cupboard Project and Pawk’s bill. It was sweet of her, but he hadn’t told the whole truth. In reality, when he and Hermione saw the article, they planned for her to use it to subtly guilt-trip Crow just to see what she might try to offer to make it better. But they were both confused as to how someone knew that her and Crow had been talking. It also worried them since they didn’t know what else this person might know about them and their dealings in Wizengamot. The source was listed as anonymous but Harry planned to ask Alex about it via a letter.

It lead to a meeting between them the next day that, after Alex teased Harry a while, ended with the revelation that the anonymous source was Garren Andrews. Alex typically wouldn’t leak something like this, but the article’s author kept bragging about the source and Alex had no obligation not to tell.

Harry rolled his eyes at the name. “Andrews, Merlin. I know him. He’s always kissing arse and trying to gain fame and notoriety without actually having to do anything. This is all just a cheap smear campaign to tear someone else down so it’ll be easier to build himself up.”

Alex gave a nod and let a smirk slip onto his face. “Well, for the record, I’d kiss a lot more than just your arse.”

Rather than blushing or fumbling his words like he used to, Harry let out a laugh. “Yea, thanks.” He shook his head and sighed. “If push comes to shove I’ll just have someone dig something up on him and expose it to shut him up. His ego could use a good hit anyways.”

“You’ve gotten quite comfortable with this, yea? I remember you used to be hesitant. You felt bad. You wondered if this was the right thing to do. But now you just go for it.” Alex commented as they looked Harry over. “It’s kind of hot.” They joked.

He furrowed his eyebrows as they reminded him of something. “Huh, Draco says that too.”

“Does he? Seriously?” Alex hadn’t pegged Draco as being a bottom.

“Something about making it more satisfying to, uh, something.” He thought a moment, hardly able to remember the words exchanged and only able to focus on how turned on he was. “I-I don’t remember.”

Alex recognized some of it and made an attempt at finishing the quote. “It’ll make it all the more satisfying to pin you down?”

“Yea, how’d you know?”

Alex grinned. “It’s a quote from this little romance novel about an islander and a merman.”

“Wait, I know that book! Draco’s read it!” He had no idea Draco had been quoting a novel. It made him wonder what else had actually been a quote. But by the same token, he didn’t care. Inspiration can come from anywhere and the line had been very effective.

“So you’re a bottom?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “What? No, I’m still a virgin.”

It took everything in Alex not to snort. “Oh yea, you’re a bottom. Which, somehow, is even more unexpected.” They tilted their head as if contemplating it.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m not a bottom.”

"If you say so."

While Alex and Harry walked the line of pillowtalk, Seamus and Draco were all over the subject.

It had started out as a meeting to discuss the final details of Draco's plot and to finish up the scene where the two finally get together, but eventually, they discussed the characters fucking, which lead to Harry and Draco fucking. The conversation managed to start off innocent enough, just with the fact that Draco and Harry were close to finally being together. As the excitement heightened, so did Draco's willingness to share. They ended up spilling details about both of their sex lives. Seamus was just a bit more shameless than Draco, who was raised to never even discuss sex in the first place, so he followed his friend's lead and shared just as much. Though Seamus had actual stories of he and Dean, Draco only had the moments where they teased each other. But of course, that only lead to him finally delving into all of the things he wanted to do to Harry.

"Honestly, I just want to ride him. I think that's how I would try to do it our first time."

"Of course." It made perfect sense to Seamus. Riding would allow Draco a level of control given that he knew what he was doing, and it feels better. "That's how I did it with Dean."

Draco nodded. "I just feel like that would make the most sense. But I'd like to do other things before I finally take it, you know? I'd like to slowly show him more and more ways to find pleasure instead of starting with the most obvious."

"Oh I wish I had done that. I ended up pouncing on Dean at first chance." Seamus confessed with a laugh. "But he enjoyed himself and I wouldn't change anything."

The blonde chuckled and looked down a moment before finally asking. "Is there, perhaps, anything that I should make sure he knows before we do it? Was there anything Dean hadn't expected?"

Seamus couldn't help but to grin, "Oh, there was a lot he didn't expect. But the one thing I wish he had known was that since he had never done it before, and since I hadn't in a while, sometimes the person on the receiving end can take a bit longer to finish. But now, we know what to do and I usually cum first."

A smile crept onto Draco's face and he shook his head. "I think it's going to happen soon. He said before February, and it's already January tenth. I think he needs just a bit more progress at work."

That lead to a short discussion about politics, and then to Harry's career. They talked about him switching to focus on The Cupboard Project and Seamus agreed that it would probably be best for him to focus on it.

When Seamus finally left, Draco found himself alone in the house for the third day in a row. Though his mother and friends often visited him, and he always had his evenings with Harry, he was growing bored. Not even his book would satiate him given that it was all he really had to do. He had read all of his, written until he tired himself, and listened to Harry's muggle music until he had some songs memorized. In three short days of being in lockdown, he felt like he was losing his mind. He knew the consequences of going out, but he honestly was wondering how likely it would be that the attacker would consider Hogsmeade over Diagon Alley. He also wondered if Paris might be safe. After all, his comment to the journalist was the only time he had really been seen by the public in Paris. Perhaps he could spend an afternoon with Blaise.

He sent off a letter, practically begging Blaise to let him come over in a few days, and hoped for the best.

By then, Harry was in Wizengamot, voting on Pawk's preliminary. It was all about introducing the bill and agreeing on whether or not there was a need for it. Thankfully, the overwhelming majority voted it in. Needing only 25/50 votes, she managed 35. Beyond the Silent Seven and the swayed members of the failed opposition, many younger members of Wizengamot were in favor of it. Being afflicted with lycanthropy, and with the bill's anti-discriminatory focus, she also got the vote from a group recently dubbed; the Werewolf Caucus. Given their small majority, appealing to those afflicted had become a new goal that younger members were very easily getting the hang of, but older ones could hardly grasp.

Harry was overjoyed by this. He was the first to rush down and congratulate Pawk. The Cupboard Project was guaranteed to make it through and all they needed to do was ensure at least the same number of votes in Pawk's second vote to have her bill passed. He, Hermione, and Pawk spent the next while talking to everyone about the bill, giving more detailed information about it and ensuring votes for the next time around. He was on a roll, keeping his summaries of the bill short and persuasive, answering questions, throwing out details that hadn't been included in the first presentation, shaking hands, exchanging pleasantries, and offering support in exchange for a vote. It was as if everyone was dancing around him to the music that he created. He felt so in-control of everything going on around him. He was on a high. Everything that he had worked so hard to set up, had finally fallen into place.

As everyone left, Pawk, Hermione, and a few others were going to go out for drinks, but Harry declined, saying that there was something he had to do and it couldn't wait.

He rushed to the Floos and took one home. He saw Draco laying on the sofa, half-asleep with a book in his hands. The blonde looked up and greeted Harry with a small smile. "Hey, how was your day?"

Harry moved to kneel down by Draco's face and he suddenly felt nervous, until he remembered that he was literally asking out a man who was already his husband. He sat back on his legs and bit his lip before cracking a small smile, marveling at how silly the situation was. The blonde looked so confused, until he said, "I- Will you be my lover?"

The words hit Draco like cold water and shocked his system. His eyes widened and he sat up with a grin, looking down at the man who knelt before him. "Yes, yes of course!" He set his book aside and grinned, reaching down to wrap his arms around Harry. Their hug felt warmer than usual. It all felt so warm and sort. A joy took him over as everything he had ever wanted was finally being given to him. Of all possible futures, he spent a majority of his life never imagining one so happy and warm. They were always so bland and either oriented around business or making his father proud, just continuation of his life at the time. But this was the opposite. It was loving and bright. He had never known color like this moment revealed to him.

They pulled away and once again, Harry was drawn into those grey eyes. "Can I please kiss you?"

Draco's cheeks went red and he gave a quick nod as he leaned down. He finally pressed his lips to Harry's and felt an excitement bubbling up in his stomach. He felt like a dork for smiling into the kiss, but he couldn't help himself. The lips against his felt better than he expected and felt so small against his own. They pulled away after one chaste kiss and Draco grinned. "Can we kiss again?"

Harry nodded and let him. He smiled just as much as Draco did. The enveloping warmth of lips bigger than his own made him melt. The joy that sparked within himself made him want to giggle. He reached up and cupped Draco's cheek, just a bit unsure about the move, but the blonde didn't seen to react negatively to it.

They pulled away again and Harry was about to speak, but Draco's eyes flickered to his forehead. He brushed back the wild hair that covered it and cracked a smile. "Did you know your scar's been healing?"

"What?" Harry got up and went into the bathroom with Draco on his heels. He looked and saw that his scar was no longer the angry red hat looked as if a child had drawn it on. Instead, it had healed into raised white skin, that had thinned a bit and tapered off into something that looked a lot more like real lightening. "I ought to get a haircut." It looked mature and just a bit intimidating. It wasn't something he was ashamed enough to hide anymore. Maybe it was time he embraced that part of himself and everything it represented. It sucked, but it happened, and now it was over.

He turned back around to face Draco and found himself caught between the man and the bathroom sink. His eyes flickered back to the lips that once enveloped his.

"Want to kiss again? Two more and you'll have repaid your debts." He joked with a small smile.

Harry only shook his head. "This is a debt I want to spend the rest of my life repaying."

The words made the blonde turn red as they leaned closer to each other. They kissed again, and Harry whispered, "Don't stop." So he didn't. After a few more he moved to take Harry's lower lip between his own. He wanted to give Harry's bottom lip a soft nip, he wanted to so badly, but he refrained and stuck with simple kissed. His hands slowly reached to hold Harry's waist as his own face was cupped by warm hands. It took a few more kisses and a bit of hesitation, but he gently pulled Harry closer so that they were almost touching. He typically wasn't in to very much kissing, but doing it with someone he was emotionally attracted to made it a lot more enjoyable than before. Excitement ran through him and he felt as if he was close to being just a bit too excited. The buzzing in his stomach seemed to spread lower and he pulled away a moment. “Kiss me one more time and you’ll be losing your virginity in the bathroom.”

With that, Harry planted one last kiss on his lips before sliding past him and reentering the sitting room.

Draco grinned to himself and paused, noticing in the mirror that his own lips had turned a velvety red from the kisses. He touched them and they felt warm. He liked it more than he wanted to admit.

He went into the sitting room and nearly groaned at the sight. “I’m so bored here.” He sighed. “I’ve done everything there is to do. Hell, I did all the cleaning because there was nothing better to do!” He sighed and flopped down beside Harry, acting miserable and pouty. “Fuck me?”

Harry blinked a few times and blushed at the question, opting to not take it seriously. “Very funny.”

“Or we could just cuddle ..... and rub up against each other.” He suggested with a flirty grin, moving to sit up and lean towards his lover.

The blush darkened and he looked over at Draco, a bit flustered. “You can’t be serious. You’re just bored.”

“Bored and horny.” He clarified as if it mattered. He leaned a bit closer and turned to rest his head on Harry’s shoulder. “Tell you what. Just let me rub up against you and I could stick my hand down your pants a-”

He was cut off by Harry very subtly adjusting his robes, knowing it was a move meant to hide a boner. “I’m not having this conversation.”

Draco’s jaw dropped and he got off Harry, staring at him in shock. “Did I turn you on? Is that seriously all it takes? Oh I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

Part of Harry wanted to take Draco up on every offer he’s made. But he was a bit nervous since he’s ever done anything like that before.

“I-I. I’m not opposed to doing something. I’m just nervous. I’ve never done anything before. Especially not with a man.”

Draco nodded and he moved to sit right next to Harry while still keeping a comfortable distance, just in case. “I know we both said we want to keep our pants on, and that’s still true for me. Instead of deciding whether or not we want to do something,” he trailed off a moment, trying to find the right word, but he didn’t. So he started his sentence over. “Rather than deciding how far we go, we could start off small, make sure we’re comfortable with everything, slowly do more, and just do whatever feels right. So, maybe we could go back to kissing, and if you feel okay with my lips moving down to your neck ..... they might. Does that sound okay?”

Harry’s face went red and he blinked a few times. It sounded like the most tempting offer he’d ever been given. “Uhm, okay.” His voice was soft and hardly as confident as he wanted it to be. But the grin that forced its way into his face gave him away.

The blonde let his tongue peak out to wet his lips, leaning forward and cupping Harry’s cheek in his hand. “Are you sure?”

The magic of those grey eyes were absolutely captivating. All the flares of light and depths of something darker and deeper. They pulled him in and he didn’t even realize he had leaned closer. Harry felt as if he could fall into those eyes.

“Yes.”


	32. Of Devilish Men and Devilish Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was almost done with this godforsaken Drarry smut, and then I set my phone down, drank some water, picked my phone back up, opened it, and my fucking browser refreshed.
> 
> All was lost and I am left to mourn.
> 
> So this is me, a crackhead, frantically making porn at two in the morning:

Harry wasn’t sure when, but somewhere along their kisses, Draco shifted to nearly sit on Harry’s lap. They were so close and he was drowning. All he could smell was that stupid French cologne that the blonde had been using since they were fourteen. Caught in a moment of clarity, he wondered why he remembered that. Why did he remember when Draco first started using that cologne? He's always thought it smelled good, but he didn't think he'd remembered the change. A hand traveling to his waist sent a brief shiver through him and brought him out of his head. He wrapped his own arms around Draco and a soft little gasp left him when Draco pulled away and began moving lower. Somehow, it surprised him.

Those lips sank to his jaw and he felt a growing anticipation, hoping they would move lower. Though he's never experienced a mouth on his neck, he‘s done it to other people, and found himself eager to know what it feels like. In truth, nothing could have prepared him for the sweet shock of pleasure that made his back push into a soft arch. The feeling ran straight between his legs and he was almost at a loss. He didn't even realize he was holding back a noise until he almost let it out.

Draco shot him a sly grin and couldn't help but to tease. "Did you like that?"

"Do it again." Where he should have been embarrassed, he only knew desire. It felt good and he wanted to feel good. He wasn't the blushing and coy man that either of them expected he would be.

When Draco returned to his neck, a hand slipped behind his head and took a light grip in his hair. He cracked a smile and continued to slowly kiss up and down the untouched parts of Harry. He couldn't help the pride that came from being the first to do this to Harry, and it only worsened with Harry's reactions. The way his chaste façade fell and he was left shameless drove the desire in Draco. He wanted to do so much more and they'd only just begun. The hand that rested on Harry's waist could feel the way the man's breathing was slightly off. His breaths were deep and just a tad shaky, occasionally stuttering when he needed to hold back a noise. He could feel shifting muscles under Harry's skin, moving ever-so-slightly, too subtle to be seen.

He switched to the other side and decided to take it a bit more seriously. Rather than kissing around, he tried to seek out where Harry liked it best. The search took him up and towards the front of Harry's neck. A groan escaped Draco when the hand in his hair tightened from a few kisses he placed between the corner of Harry's jaw and his ear. The body in his hands squirmed while letting out a trembling gasp.

Before Harry could register the reason why the blonde groaned, he let out a few noises of his own, surprising himself with the short and gentle moans that left his lips. A bit of force came from his hands, trying to encourage Draco to keep his lips there. Everything felt perfect besides the way his dress pants had become a bit tight. He didn't realize something as simple as this could feel so good. Entirely new and far too sweet, he knew he could be content spending the rest of his days with Draco's mouth on him. It was a fate he'd be honored to suffer.

A soft nip made him cringe and pull back slightly. He found himself confused for a moment. Was it suppose to feel good to be bitten or was it normal for it to hurt? If so, was he meant to like the fact that it hurt? He was at a loss and he saw a nervousness invade Draco's once-confident smile. "I'm sorry, I-I don't know why I did that." The slight sting had already faded and now he felt as if he had ruined their moment.

"No, it's alright. Not everyone likes biting." He wanted to make sure Harry knew that he hadn't done anything wrong.

Harry shifted a bit, his robes being the only thing to cover his arousal, but he so badly wanted them off. He didn't want those stupid plum Wizengamot robes on during such an intimate moment. "Is it alright if I take my robes off?"

Draco did his best to stop a grin from slipping onto his face as he nodded. Of course he loved the idea of Harry showing skin, but he didn't want to make it obvious.

He undid his robes and spoke as he started pulling them off, "I can tell you like having your hair pulled, but what about biting?" He wanted to throw the attention onto Draco to distract from the fact that the tent in his pants was now very obvious.

The blonde gave a sheepish smile and nodded. "I like it well enough." He tilted his head and the corners of his mouth faltered. "Why?" His plan had been to get Harry whiny and desperate, and then to rub up against each other until they finished, but now he got the feeling that things might not go as planned.

Harry looked up with a mischief in his eyes that the world hadn't seen since his father gleamed with it, a mischief that only a Potter could pull off. "Certainly that imagination of yours could give you a few ideas." His confidence was entirely misplaced. He wore it as if he had years of experience but he was only high on lechery. He moved to straddle Draco's lap with a small grin. "It's my turn." Though he was a virgin, he wasn't clueless. He's walked in on Lavender and Ron doing things more times than he'd like to admit. Not to mention, between a room of five boys, a lot of talk went around, and Dean happened to have a streak of being more detailed than anyone would have liked.

Draco's eyes widened and his lips parted in shock. He didn't think Harry would be this confident, but given that it was their first time together he decided he wouldn't fight for control. He would let Harry have his fun.

Harry pressed another kiss to the blonde's lips before his impish expression dove into the unmarked neck before him. This was something he knew how to do. Finally, he felt like he had an ounce of control. His lips very briefly explored, feeling the body under him arch while the occasional gasp sounded off above him. Pride flooded his veins and he took on a different technique from the sweet kisses that Draco had used to keep him on edge. He wanted to give something slower and more sensual. With each kiss he let his lips part against Draco's skin to give a soft nip or suck before his lips would slowly close against his skin. There was a focus on the groove where his neck, shoulder, and collarbone met. An occasional breath of hot air left him and made Draco shiver. He teased a bit longer until he heard such a soft and broken groan slip from Draco.

The poor blonde's eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed, and lips parted. He was absolutely helpless to the surprisingly talented mouth on his body. He was practically throbbing in his pants and now he knew there really was no going back. With a mouth like that, he had to see some end to this.

He dragged his parted lips upward, to the front of his neck’s left side, repeating the sensual torture. He wanted Draco to drown in his own heat and desire. After all, he loved giving, and felt as if he could do this for hours. He focused his lips on the new area and kept up his slow pace, making sure the blonde was forced to feel every little movement of his lips. While he was distracted, Harry reached down to adjust himself in his pants, pointing his cock up at himself as he slipped his hand back out. It was much more comfortable that way.

Hands move to hold Harry’s hips and he enjoyed it more than he expected he would. Though it wasn't too low, it was still lower than anyone's hands had been before. A soft squirm ran through the body against his and he let out a soft chuckle in response. After teasing up and down his target, he dragged the pointed tip of his tongue across Draco's neck, around the shell of his ear, and ended with a very gentle bite.

"Harder."

The word caught them both a bit off-guard. Draco didn't even realize he had said it until he heard the word in the air.

But Harry obeyed. He bit a bit harder and listened to a soft grunt slip through Draco's lips.

"I should have expected this from someone who likes having his hair pulled." He teased in Draco's ear before moving to the other side of the blonde's neck to start his torturous process all over again. He did it just a tad rougher, but Draco looked relaxed through the whole thing. Where Harry was on-edge and squirming when his neck was kissed, Draco drowned in bliss. He was just a tad jealous by how Draco could keep himself so composed, but he also took it as a bit of a challenge where every shiver and broken sound was a victory. The final bite on his ear took just a small shift of Harry's hips to reach. It would have been a smooth ending if not for the fact that Harry's cheeks and shoulders turned red from the feeling of something now poking him. He hadn't meant to rest himself there, but he didn't really want to move either.

He pulled away and looked at Draco with a mischievous glint in his eyes and something puckish about his smile. Between the look of Harry's face and the wanton acts he had performed, Draco felt as if he finally understood why handsome men were called devilish. There was something so wickedly attractive about it all that made him want to lose himself in pleasure.

"I quite like using my mouth." Harry wiped his damp lower-lip with his thumb and gave a wink.

Draco bit his lip and looked away for a moment as if trying to compose himself. He was struck by a wave of desire and shifted a bit, trying to keep calm. "I never would have guessed you could be so dirty." He knew Harry felt his boner, so he used it to his advantage. He shifted his hips a bit to press up against him even further, making Harry's cheeks and shoulders glow pink. "I really ought to be teasing you for the way you teased me on Christmas Eve. Don't you think?"

"No. I did nothing wrong and I said nothing that wasn't true."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes." He didn't let Draco get another word in. Harry leaned closer and felt the hands on his hips grow just a bit tighter. "You _are_ all bark and no bite, you aren't as tough as you think you are, and it wasn't just the icing I kissed off your cheek that day, you taste delicious all on your own." There was an edge to his voice that was both aroused and amused by what was happening. He seemed so in-control. It was as if he knew exactly what was going to happen and it was all happening according to his plan. In reality, he didn't know what to expect, but he was on a high from everything their bodies had done.

Excitement grew in those grey eyes. He was soaking up every word Harry said. Every declaration of dominance that fell from the man's mouth made him more and more satisfied because he knew how much better it was going to feel when he had his lover pinned under him. "I can believe the last one, but the first two can't be serious." It was as if he was giving Harry a chance to back down and accept his fate on his own. But he knew Harry wouldn't, he never would, and that made it all the more exciting.

"I meant every word of it."

Draco had to throw all his weight to get Harry on his back, but once he did, it was easy to keep him down. One leg was propped beside Draco's body, foot firmly planted on the couch, while his other foot rested on the ground. Draco's body laid between the spread legs and it gave him a phenomenal view of the tent between them. His hands kept Harry's shoulders down since he didn't feel comfortable pinning his wrists just yet. He wanted Harry to have the chance of using his arms if he wanted. Once he had Harry laying back, he moved back to sit. "If you're comfortable with this, I would quite like to rub up against you until we both ruin our pants."

Harry’s lips parted from shock and he shifted a bit, his legs never having been this spread open before. But somehow it wasn’t uncomfortable. He looked up at Draco and shifted again, feeling strangely intimidated. He blinked a few times to shake off the arousal and coyness buzzing in his head. “Please do.”

With that, Draco leaned over him with one leg outstretched and the other bent, giving him an angle to grind. He saw Harry had adjusted himself in his pants and he let a hand slip down to do the same, feeling a bit of relief at the new position. A sly grin appeared on his face, and once Harry looked in his eyes, he rolled his hips. He watched an expression of sweet surprise take over the man’s face as a soft groan followed. He let out a soft chuckle and ground down again, swirling his hips and letting out a few soft gasps. It felt even better when Harry began to move. The two of them pressed together, rubbing, it felt amazing to know he was getting off against the man he loved.

Harry let his head fall back and one hand reached to grip the armrest of the sofa. His lips were parted as soft sighs left him. The friction was almost as sweet as the little whines that left the man above him, occasionally escaping through his bitten lips.

The pace was almost relaxed, neither were in a hurry to finish. But Draco wanted to do just a bit more. He leaned down and began to kiss around Harry’s neck, making the man whine and squirm. The noises were sweet. Not the deep groans Draco expected, but they were a bit higher pitched and breathless. He loved the sound.

Harry had a moment of uncertainly before one hand abandoned the sofa’s cushion to reach down and let his fingers brush against the blonde’s thigh. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he so desperately wanted to touch the man before him. A small shock ran through him and he cringed as a groan was released right by his ear. “Bugger off!” He hated that Draco knew how sensitive his ears were.

Draco chuckled. “You make even that sound so cute.” He commented as he moved to give gentle kisses around the man’s ear. From fooling around in his youth, he was very good at keeping in his noises, but he didn’t want to. He wasn’t coy or hesitant. He wanted to give Harry everything he had. Every noise, kiss, movement of his hips; it was all Harry’s.

The sweet feeling on his neck made him slowly realize that by comparison, his arm felt stretched and a bit uncomfortable, so he retreated it to hold on to the bottom of Draco’s shirt. A noise that could only be described as a mewl left him as he tilted his hips up to get a more direct friction on his arousal. He found himself turning his thighs out as far as he could, making himself spread open. He’d never done that before. But he wanted it. He wanted to give Draco all the room he needed to move his hips and make them feel good. He also began to realize that his breaths had become soft panting.

Draco smirked and shifted his own hips to accommodate the ones that so eagerly pressed against him. He focused his grinding so their arousals rubbed directly against each other. A surprised groan rumbled under him from the direct friction. He let out his own moan and bit his lip a moment, his eyes nearly rolling back. “So good. So loud. Are you usually this loud?” He teased.

Harry seemed to curl up a bit as if protecting himself from the pleasure. In some invisible struggle, the hand on Draco’s shirt raised and exposed most of the man’s torso. He tossed his head back and let out a breathy grunt, losing to the lovely feelings that invaded his system. “Shut up! I’m not loud.”

The blonde mistook Harry’s struggle for a hint and he raised up to pull his own shirt off, tossing it aside before he quickly went back to moving his hips. Though he teased, the sounds under him were amazingly beautiful. He could listen to them all day. They called out and without words, asked for more. Some sounded low and relaxed, others more frantic and breathy, it was all so tempting. Harry might be below Draco, but it was his voice that moved the blonde’s hips. Every movement was for him.

Green eyes roamed over the new flesh. It wasn’t very muscular, but rather, quite lean. It was pale and soft. A little line of blonde hairs ran from his navel to the hem of his pants and Harry found himself with the strange desire to put his mouth there. Perhaps another time, because he couldn’t stop moving his hips even if he wanted to. His eyes were also caught by the sight of a few scars on the man’s torso. Scars that he was ashamed to recognize. “I-I did that.”

Draco moved his head to make eye contact and he slowed the pace a bit. “I know. You already apologized and I just don’t care anymore. Let go, Harry.” One more slow roll of his hips made their arousals rub together before he quickly picked up the pace again. Their hips swirled together, the tents in their pants never leaving each other. It all felt so much more intense than before. He watched the very moment Harry was hit with the pleasure. The way his head tossed back and a loud groan was pulled from him. An arm wrapped around his waist, holding him.

“Oh lover, this feels perfect.” It was then that Harry decided he wanted to be immortalized in a living painting, just Draco and him, forever in hedonism. He never wanted to stop. They were nothing more than animals.

That blonde head dropped to kiss and moan against Harry’s neck, enthralled by the way he was finally called lover. The word Harry only used for those he dated, the word no one else would call him. He was Harry’s lover and that felt better than anything their bodies could do. He let out a soft whine and shifted a bit, allowing himself to push even harder onto Harry. His hips grew a bit more frantic and his voice suddenly lost all breathlessness. His noises were guttural and clear, more akin to whines and cries. A sudden bout of clarity came upon him and he realized just how rough their movements had become. It felt so much sweeter.

Beneath him, Harry’s back moved to arch again as swears and kisses began to hit the outside of his ear. Draco’s brain was shot from pleasure and though he wanted to make noise and say so many things, he was at such a loss for words that swears were the only thing he knew.

Harry bit his lip and let out shaky moan from the shivers that rushed down his spine to meet the dense and growing pleasure that rested between his legs. “Oh, lover.” His voice dropped into something low and rough. The hand in Draco’s hair gave him a tug and forced him to raise up a bit as Harry turned to nearly growl his words right into the blonde’s ear. “Once the epitome of grace and snide. I love the way you fall apart.”

Draco’s jaw dropped from such treatment. No lover had ever dared to treat him as anything less than a prince due to his old reputation. But now, someone was rough with him, someone put up a fight, and he loved every bit of it. “Fuck.” Was all he could say in return. Everything felt so much hotter and a hand reached down to undo his own pants. His legs frantically moved to kick them down and into the floor before he returned to his desperate rutting.

The sight of Draco trying so hard to get his pants off amused Harry. It was so cute and desperate. He loved every second of it. His legs moved so frantically to kick the pants off before pushing them onto the floor. He was proud to know he was the reason for the blonde’s desperation.

Draco pressed down as hard as he could, and though it was stark, he tried moving even faster than before. He wanted to be overwhelmed.

It took everything in Harry not to chuckle at the fervid display between his legs. But when the pleasure returned even stronger than before, he threw his head back and let out a sob. He moved his hips in earnest but didn’t lose himself like Draco had. There was more he wanted to say.

“I should have expected this. Once all bark and no bite, now the opposite. You’re far too desperate to do both.” He sounded as if he was crooning the words to some sultry song.

The blonde wailed and let his head drop to rest in the crook of Harry’s neck, moaning and kissing. He switched sides and let himself feel just how desperate he was. The way his own hips were so frantic, his loud calls of pleasure, the way he loved the grip in his hair, and the way he so easily fell for the dirty things Harry said. But he also noticed Harry’s panting and the way his thighs had begun to shake. He felt them as they rested on either side of his body. First, a shiver would come through them every few strokes, but soon enough, they rushed through him endlessly. He moved to rest his lips just beside Harry’s ear before moaning out the words, “Oh lover, your thighs are trembling. Close?”

Harry shivered and found himself suddenly pulled out of his head. Forced back into his body, he became aware of just how close he was. The pleasure that ran through him was so much stronger than before. The trembling in his thighs grew and he turned his head as his cheeks and shoulders went red. He knew he was close. Cries left him as the rubbing grew ever more frantic and needy. He only got louder and in his strain for release, he began to writhe and squirm under the blonde. Just outside of himself, there rested the end. It teased him like a retreated tide and waited for the right moment to rush forth and overcome him.

“Yes! Oh, I’m close! Draco, please, come on.” He groaned and tugged at the blonde hair in his hand, listening to the beautiful whines that sounded off above him.

Draco was nearly laying on top of him, he moved to bend both his knees just slightly and that became his only source of leverage, letting his hips dig down to search for their orgasms.

Harry’s squirming didn’t slow, but rather, turned into trembles and writhes as everything became even more intense. His eyes widened and his lips parted as he felt the rush finally begin. The rush that would take him to the end. He knew Draco was close, but not as close as him. A cry left him as his hands flew to grip Draco’s torso and nearly clawed at his back. His hips gave fervid rolls and ruts in a desperate search for the end. He was overwhelmed and his eyes rolled back some.

Draco knew he was getting close and lifted his head up to watch the other’s face as he came apart. “Close?”

Harry let out a cry and nodded. “Lover, I’m almost there.”

The word sounded so pure and sweet when Harry said it. It shocked Draco’s heart and brought a flush to his face. He looked down into those green eyes and saw flares of almost yellow and shadows of something closer to blue. They were so gorgeous and deep. They pulled him in like the depth of some ocean only known to sunken ships and hosts in atrophy. It was beautiful. He moved only to see Harry’s end as pleasure invaded those desperate green eyes. He looked helpless.

A hand reached down and gripped Draco’s arse, squeezing and pushing him down even harder. The rough pleasure made him writhe in frustration as he was so close but just wasn’t there yet. He wanted to be there, he so badly wanted to know the end. “Draco!” He was thrown into a heated whirlwind of calling the man above him both his lover and by his name. The arm that was still wrapped around Draco moved to grab at his back, nearly scratching him.

Draco’s own eyes rolled back from having his arse gripped and his back clawed at. Perhaps he was more of a masochist than he’d like to admit. All he could think of was how close Harry was, which is why he was shocked to hear a sudden loud wail from his throat. His body shook and his hips rolled as quickly as they could. Some intense feeling washed over him. He had been far too distracted to realize how close he was and his own orgasm took him by surprise.

He sobbed and wailed through it, holding nothing back and letting out Harry’s name along with strings of swears and a few mindless noises. His own thighs shook and he felt tremors running through his body. He rode out the overwhelming feeling that had taken him over and was left panting and whimpering when it finally ended.

An uncomfortable stickiness was left in his underwear as he pulled back slightly, embarrassed by his display. His eyes were still flooded with pleasure as all the little aftershocks still sparked in him. “Apologies.”

“Don’t. That was the sexist thing I’ve ever seen.” Harry commented with a sly grin, moving to try to sit up and hold Draco.

“Wait.” The blonde put a hand to his chest to stop him. “You haven’t finished.”

Harry only shrugged, genuinely uncertain of what he was meant to do. “I’m sorry. Uhm. It’s fine, really.” He almost looked confused. His eyes were silently asking if this was how he was suppose to be responding to such an event.

The blonde seemed to realize all over again that Harry had never done anything like this before. He really was a virgin. “You’re cumming.”

The words sounded like a demand and Harry turned red. No one had ever said anything like that to him and it turned him on more than he’d like to admit. “Alright then.” He stayed still, unsure of what Draco wanted to do.

The blonde above him sat back and reached towards Harry’s zipper. “Is this okay?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

His dress pants were undone and pulled off, finding a home in the floor as he was left only in his small, red cotton underwear that fit him better than he’d like to admit.

Draco raised his eyebrows at the sight and couldn’t help but to grin. “Expect to get undressed today?”

“Sod off.”

He reached down and set a firm hand on the bulge before him. Almost immediately, Harry began moving his hips. He couldn’t resist even the smallest trace of pleasure. He had to rub against the hand and get more.

Draco smirked and tightened his grip. In the time between their grinding and touching, he knew Harry’s orgasm had probably faltered a bit, so he started off at a fast pace to see just how close he other was.

Harry let out a moan and one arm flew up to hide his eyes in his inner elbow while his other hand drifted down to hold Draco’s arm.

The blonde smirked and sped up. He wanted Harry to be suddenly overcome with his orgasm, like Draco had been. He watched Harry’s head turn from side to side with his arm shielding his closed eyes, his hips rolled as quickly as they could, and his face twisted into something desperate. Whines and shivers flowed from Harry so easily. He felt the pleasure return to him as if they had never left off and he began drifting close to the edge.

A soft cry escaped his lips as the hand on him began to move even faster until he was quite brutally being stroked. His head shot back and his free hand flew to grab Draco’s wrist, though he didn’t try to stop him. He wanted it too badly. His body shook and jerked from the intense feeling. A cry tore from him amidst his panting. He didn’t expect Draco to be so rough, but he loved it.

His hips shot forward in quick attempts to shorten what time remained before he came. He twisted, letting out loud and overwhelmed moans. “Oh, Draco! Fucking please!” He hardly knew what he was asking for when he pleaded with the blonde, he just needed _something_.

The hand that gripped him was tight and faster than he had ever touched himself. His noises had become a bit high-pitched and breathless. He was getting very close and Draco could see it. Every little tremble and noise was so cute to him. He loved the sight of his overwhelmed lover.

“Move your arm. I want to see you.”

Harry obeyed and moved the arm that hid his eyes. They held such a sweet desperation. He looked into Draco’s for a few seconds before his own widened and his lips parted. He nearly shouted the other’s name and that, along with his shocked expression, only made Draco try to move even faster. He called out the other’s name a few more times and writhed around, seeming to struggle with the intensity. It was finally happening. That feeling that rested just outside of himself finally lurched forward to overcome him.

Draco watched those gorgeous green eyes roll back and cross slightly as the man let out a series of hapless whines. He bucked his hips into the unrelenting hand and felt that overpowering feeling finally wash over him. Gasps and cries left him as he tumbled off the edge. He let out Draco’s name as many times as his could while his body shook and tried to ride out his orgasm. The muscles in his torso and legs became frantic as he was overcome by pleasure. They shook under his flesh, struggling with the way his body was washed in his orgasm.

Rather than closing his eyes, he was captured by those gray ones and saw how amused Draco looked by the sight of him.

There was something so pure about the way Harry whined and shook through the pleasure. It was so innocent and overwhelmed, and Draco couldn’t help but to enjoy watching.

Sobs left him as the trembling slowly came to stop. His hips slowed and the hand gently released him to reveal a damp spot from where he’d finished.

He looked up at Draco and struggled to catch his breath. Once he did, he was met with Draco’s satisfied expression. “I-I’ve made a mess.” He commented lamely.

Draco gave a small nod. “We both have. But it felt good.”

Harry nodded and then closed his eyes. “I- I want to do that again, sometime. Can we do that all the time?”

The blonde chuckled and shook his head. “Not all the time. But ..... often.” He tempted as he reached for his wand, casting a cleaning spell on them both.

Harry shivered from his own aftershocks, as well as the cleaning spell running over somewhere so sensitive. While Draco was sitting back, he couldn’t help but to glance over the bare torso that was finally revealed to him. There was nothing in particular that made it so attractive. But because it was part of Draco, he loved it.

They shifted so Harry could finally close his legs, but as he did, the were momentarily overcome by trembles. He gave a small frown before they slowly stopped. “I don’t know what that was.”

Draco let out a chuckle. “Nether do I, but it happens to me sometimes too.” He said as Harry sat up a bit, soon crawling into the man’s arms. He pulled down the blanket that was draped across the back of the sofa and grinned. “Enjoy yourself.”

“You aren’t allowed near my neck again.”

Draco’s jaw dropped and he sat back to look at Harry. “I was so nice and sweet to you, but you sucked and nipped at me like an animal! You’re only upset cause you can’t sit still!”

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s your fault.”

Draco raised an eyebrow before rolling his eyes. “Then no grinding.” He threatened.

Harry blinked a few times and put on his best puppy dog eyes. “But it felt good. No one’s never touched me like that before.” When he saw playing up the innocence wasn’t working, he took a different angle. “I want you to do even more things to me that no one else has.”

This sent a shiver up Draco’s spine and he relented, laying back against Harry’s chest. “Fine. But I’m still going to go after your neck, every time.”

Harry cracked a smile. “Fine.”

They were finally together and that constituted a full evening in each other’s arms. So they laid there for hours, until they had to cook dinner. Once more, they didn’t go to bed alone. But instead of Harry’s smaller room, he joined Draco in the master bedroom, and was slowly driven crazy by the scent of that stupid French cologne that he’d come to love.


	33. Truth

St. Mungo’s was easily one of the best hospitals in the wizarding world. They were known for their care of patients and families, hospitality, leading research in medicines and potions, 24/7 staff, and success rates. They also shared their research with other hospitals. He would describe them as the St. Jude of the wizarding world, but they worked with patients of all ages and went beyond cancer. They were also more localized and didn’t take on international cases.

For any other reason, Harry would have loved to visit. Perhaps for some political reason, like scoping it out with Pansy and Crow to see about their future bill. Or maybe to see the opening of some new wing. Even to witness the unveiling of a potion or medicine to revolutionize the medical field. Anything would have been better than standing over Draco’s unconscious body with Pansy and Narcissa.

The day had started off so loving and normal that he almost didn’t know how everything had gone so wrong so fast.

He had woken up that morning to the feeling of being shaken. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, finding himself laying on his stomach.

“Harry, get up.” Draco whispered is a somewhat desperate voice.

Harry sat up and immediately felt panicked. His first thought being that either Draco was hurt or someone had broken in. “What?” He had pushed himself back into his knees.

“You were laying on my arm.”

He looked down to see Draco’s arm was where Harry’s chest once was. “Oh.” He let out a breathy chuckle. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I was just numb.” He lifted his arm and slowly moved it, cringing a bit at the pins-and-needles feeling that spread throughout it.

Harry glanced at the time and rolled his eyes, flopping back down on the bed. “It’s six in the morning.”

Draco frowned. “Gross.” He twisted his wrist and spread his fingers before closing it into a fist. “Go back to sleep.”

It sounded like a wonderful idea to Harry, so he laid back down, facing Draco. He wrapped an arm around the blonde’s torso and smiled to himself.

“You’re so sentimental. Worse than a girl.” The blonde mumbled with a soft smile.

Harry looked up at him before seeing something on the bedside table that made his face light up. “Is this your book of pornography?” He lifted himself a bit and reached over to quickly snatch an unlabeled dark blue book. As Draco tried to take it from him he quickly leaned away. He crawled all over the bed as Draco tried to take it, and he did, but not before Harry read a few excerpts.

The blonde set it back where it belonged and chuckled. “You aren’t ready for that.”

“Hold on a minute! Some poor bloke was tied up in a dragon’s lair, what happens to him?”

Draco immediately remembered that story and bit his lip. “Unimportant.”

“No, you’ve got to tell me! Does he die?”

Draco took a deep breath and decided to give away the plot. “The man is actually a knight, sent to prove his worth by slaying a dragon that’s been eating sheep and cows. The dragon’s name is Eambr and he’s able to turn himself into a human. Basically, the knight, Sir Gavin, was knocked unconscious and tied up as soon as he entered the lair. Eambr convinces Sir Gavin that the whole thing was a suicide mission and that they couldn’t have reasonably expected him to survive. He wasn’t the best knight anyways, so they were giving him an honorable death since firing him would shame his family, and they can’t fire him since his sister happens to be married to a very important nobleman. Eambr turns to his human form and says that he’s been looking for a lover anyways, propositions Gavin, and they hook up while Gavin’s still tied up.”

“But how can they have sex while Gavin’s tied up? He can’t do anything.” Harry pointed out.

Draco stared at Harry for a moment before checking the time. “You don’t have to be at work until ten, yea? I think we have enough time for a demonstration.”

He turned red and and looked somewhat surprised. “I don’t mean to lose my virginity while tied up.”

“Then don’t ask questions like that. Use your imagination and I’m certain you could figure it out. Now come on, I want eggs and toast for breakfast.” He insisted, ready to start the day.

“It’s six-thirty.” He said as he pulled Draco closer, burying his face into Draco’s shoulder. He laid there a moment before his eyes widened. “Draco?”

“Yes?” He was confused by the way Harry suddenly sounded quite amused.

“Uh, there are little marks all over your neck.”

Draco sat up and sprang out of bed, rushing into the bathroom. He looked at himself and his jaw dropped. There were small and light hickies littered across his neck. “I’m gonna kick your arse, Potter!”

“I don’t blame you.” Harry laughed out the words as the blonde quickly reentered the room.

“That’s it. I already said I was going to get you for teasing me, but now, it’ll be even worse.”

His eyes widened. “Last night wasn’t getting me back for teasing you?!” This was news to him. He genuinely believe he was off the hook.

Draco smirked. “No. When I get you back, you’ll be begging for me to touch you.” His smirk became a grin as he glanced over to his book. “I just might pull something out of there to do it.”

Harry blushed and looked away. “When?”

“Any plans tonight?”

“None.”

“I’ll do it then.” He winked and began to leave the bedroom to start his day.

“But I want to hold you!” He called out, hoping to make Draco come back. Which he did, flopping back into bed with his arms crossed.

Harry only smiled and held him, happy to get his way.

It was such a sweet and normal way to begin the day. But now, Draco laid in St. Mungo’s, in the same room as Astoria Greengrass. Both unconscious and with the words _’Blood Traitor’_ scarred across their left arms. Funnily enough, it sat right where Draco’s Dark Mark used to be.

His biggest fear was that Draco would die. After everything he’s done, he couldn’t lose this man. He’d opened up in more ways to Draco that he had anyone else in the world and he wasn’t sure he could do it again. He didn’t really want to do it again. There were things he’d told Draco that he hadn’t told anyone else. He’s done things with Draco that he didn’t want to do with anyone else. This was the first blue love and he didn’t want to decay with anyone else. What they had was purely ineffable and he never wanted to be able to quantify it with words.

A horrible thought passed over him as he stared down at the still body, only moved by soft breaths. Had he ever told Draco that he loved him?

His own breaths picked up and tears pricked his eyes. He held Draco’s hand and looked down in regret.

“Do you think he knows that I love him?” Pansy, Blaise, and Narcissa look up at Harry, a bit surprised. “I never said it. But I should have.”

“I’m certain he knew.” Narcissa whispered. Her own voice was broken with sadness. “He knew it was too soon to say it.”

“No. There isn’t a too soon because now I’m too late. If I feel it, or even think I do, I ought to say it. I should have said it.”

No one had anything else to say after that.

Harry only ever looked away from Draco to glance at Daphne Greengrass, Astoria’s sister, and apparently, the only one to ever visit her. He felt a bit bad for Astoria. Ever since the war, she had drastically changed. She wanted nothing to do with the old ways and Harry was proud of her. But that left her alone and isolated. He decided that if she ever woke up, he would try to talk to her more. Since her old friends and most of her family didn’t really care for her, she ought to have new friends. She deserves as much.

Harry had been sitting by Draco’s side for almost twenty hours and he hadn’t slept in about thirty, besides the few hours he drifted in and out in the hospital chair. So when someone cleared their throat behind him, it was understandable that he flinched harder than he meant to and looked up. It was as if he hadn’t quite processed what happened and wasn’t sure if everything was really over or not.

The hand ended up belonging to a young Auror. “Harry James Potter?”

Narcissa looked up from where she sat on the other side of Draco, while Pansy moved to situate herself between the Auror and Harry. “Problem?” She asked with teary eyes and a raised eyebrow before Harry could get a word in. He recognized that tone for all the times she’d sassed him in Hogwarts. He was almost flattered to hear it used in his defense.

“Not at all, Parkinson. We only need to bring him in for questioning.” The Auror explained.

“Question him for what?” Narcissa stood, glaring at the man with a wrath and loathing that only a mother with an injured child could summon.

The Auror almost looked nervous. “He’s a key witness to the crime. We have to get his account of what happened. But, given his past with Draco and the recent media rumors surrounding them, we also have to clear him as a suspect before Wizengamot.”

Both women moved to protest, but Harry cut in. “‘S fine.” He mumbled as he stood up. “Just, send word if anything changes.” He stepped towards Draco and kissed his forehead. “Please wake up.” The words came as a whisper when he meant to speak them in a stronger voice. He turned back to the Auror and gave a somewhat awkward expression. “Don’t you need to cuff me, or something?”

The Auror almost looked embarrassed before confessing, “Technically, yes. But none of us really think it was you, and I don’t believe you’ll try to hurt me or escape, so no.”

Harry gave a nod and followed him to the lobby where there were a couple Floos. “If none of you think that I was the one responsible then why do you have to clear me as a suspect?” Not that he knew everything about the law, but it didn’t sound as if he was really a suspect.

“It doesn’t hurt to be thorough. However, a bunch of old croons in Wizengamot _do_ think it was you. Either that or they just want to bully you a bit. Still, they want to see you cleared.” He explained before they stepped into a Floo and Harry was taken to the Auror’s office.

His fingerprints and photograph were taken, all while various employees shot him sympathetic looks. A witness statement as well as a few other forms had to be filled out. Unfortunately, one of those forms required his full legal name, which he answered as being _Harry James Potter-Malfoy_. The Auror who arrested and processed him only stared at it before looking back at him, his silence asking a million questions.

Harry didn’t even look up. He felt the stare and knew what it was about. “Draco is my husband.”

The Auror nearly chocked and gave a confused expression before quickly returning to a more neutral one. Still, it was littered with nuances of surprise and confusion.

In the final stages of his booking, a second Auror entered. “Due to the circumstances, the Head Warlock has moved for Harry Potter to be given Veritaserum.”

Harry assumed the circumstances were that no one actually believed he was guilty and no one wanted to waste their time. Veritaserum would make the trial much faster.

The Auror was holding a cup of bit of orangish liquid which he handed to Harry. “Diluted with pumpkin juice so it’s easier to down.” He explained. “We’ve had far too many people puke it back up from the horrid taste.”

Harry drank it all and handed the cup back.

After the second Auror left, the first leaned forward and seemed to be unable to help himself in asking a few questions. “I know this is very unprofessional of me, but I just have to ask. Did you mean what you said when you defended Draco in trial?”

Out of curiosity, Harry tried to lie but found that he couldn’t. So he told the truth. “Every word of it. I ever hated him and never thought he was a bad person. Somewhere along the line I began to realize how similar we were. I think it was when I was on the run. I had a lot of time to think.”

He’d been there two hours before he heard word on his clearing. Given that it was a little past nine in the morning, Wizengamot was already being called so they could get it over with. He was escorted to the entrance and could hear people complaining that their time was being wasted on someone who very clearly wasn’t the culprit. But he also heard older voices chiming in that it might be him since he hates Draco so much and has probably been using him as a political ploy or under a love potion.

He rolled his eyes at the sound and could feel a haze come over his head. He was exhausted and only wanted to sleep. More importantly, he wanted to sleep by Draco’s side. He didn’t want to sleep alone anymore. But here he was, being a mix of interrogated and tried for the potential murder of the person he cared about most.

For some sick moment, he knew how Sirius might have felt. Though Sirius didn’t have the advantage of being dosed with Veritaserum.

Harry was escorted in by two Aurors and he made a brief eye contact with Pansy. She wasn’t in her Wizengamot robes. A lot of people weren’t. She didn’t seem like she had been crying recently so he had a bit of hope that things hadn’t gotten worse.

As he was magically bound to a chair, the Head Warlock informed the members that Harry had been given Veritaserum to ensure a speedy and truthful trial.

He shifted a bit and looked up to scan the crowd. Most people looked sorry for him. But some looked vengeful, or perhaps, as if justice was about to be served. He couldn’t understand how a few media rumors could turn into such adamant beliefs, but here he was.

“Mr. Potter, could you please recount the incident involving Draco Malfoy from your perspective?” The Head Warlock asked.

Harry nodded. “After work, Narcissa Malfoy found me and told me that Draco was missing. Since the attack on Astoria Greengrass, she’s had him practically locked up in our house for the past week. He wasn’t meant to leave until the man was caught since a lot of articles have been throwing around the word Blood Traitor, in reference to him. Narcissa and I end up finding a letter from Blaise Zabini saying that Draco can come visit him but they can’t leave his house since he doesn’t want Draco out and about while the attacker is still at large. Apparently, Draco had wrote to him asking if he could come over because he didn’t like being stuck in the house. We ended up finding him in the streets of wizarding Paris, practically dragging Blaise about. Blaise obviously didn’t want to be there and I don’t blame him for what happened in the slightest. So, Narcissa and I find him, and she’s furious. But I understand that her anger was out of worry and love. Still, she’s mad. She tells him off for scaring her and he apologizes. We were about to bring him home, but then-”

He didn’t know what happened, but for some reason, he had stopped talking. He actually did want to tell the story. Setting the record straight and giving information to help find the man who hurt Draco was the only thing he wanted to do, because at least it was something. It was something productive that would help catch the man who hurt Draco. But no words came out. The scene flashed through his mind and his face twisted into something sour.

“Mr. Potter?” The Head Warlock asked.

Harry looked back up and he seemed afraid. For one brief moment, everyone saw a traumatized child. A child who was scared and didn’t want to talk about what happened. Maybe that’s all Harry really was. A child who was still afraid.

Unfortunately, Harry believed that a lie of omission was still a lie, so the serum forced him to talk. His voice came out as frantic. He spoke too quickly and he almost began rocking back and forth. He felt manic.

“It was loud. I don’t like loud noises. I can’t stand loud noises. They make me jump and then I’m just, off, I’m afraid, and I can’t just be normal. Why can’t I just be normal?! I’ll get worried for the rest of the day and I just sit around and wait for bad things to happen, all because of some stupid loud noise.” He shook but he didn’t know why. Some violent shiver ran through him and he glared at the ground as he spoke. “Shouting is the worst. It reminds me too much of them. Which I’m actually not scared of them. I think I was only ever afraid of no one believing that they hurt me, because if no one believes that what happened to me was abuse and was wrong, then maybe I wasn’t abused, and maybe I deserved everything that happened to me.”

His body began to curl up slightly, protecting himself. His knees pressed together and his shoulders pushed forward, causing him to sink into himself. He wanted to curl up into a ball but couldn’t. This was the best he could manage.

“I don’t like shouting, and he shouted. It was a spell I had never heard of before, but through the crowd, I saw the skull mask. I saw it and I knew that it was him. I knew what he was going to do so I ran to Draco and I tried to yell for him to duck, I tried to tackle him, I just had to get him out of the way of the spell.” He bit his lip and another shiver ran through him. “I was too late.” His voice wavered and his emotions finally broke through. He was trying so hard not to start crying again. “He was hit and fell down. I think he was out before he ever touched the ground.”

He blinked a few times and stared down at the floor. His glare had dissipated and he almost seemed expressionless, but his sad and broken voice gave away how he truly felt.

“I didn’t even say a spell, I just screamed. I heard it in the air before I even realized it was coming from me. My wand ..... I don’t even know where my wand was. I just screamed and reached out towards him, and a spell came out. It was only locomotor mortis, which bonded his legs and kept him from running away. Unfortunately, he had a counter-curse to undo the jinx and escape.”

He could feel it welling up within himself all over again. A lie of omission. There was something else he wasn’t saying and the serum didn’t like that. He felt the words bubbling up, demanding to be heard. Whether Harry liked it or not, which he didn’t, he had to tell the whole truth.

“I regret casting locomotor mortis.” He blinked a few times and tried to stop himself. But there was no way. He finally looked up and let his eyes flicker around to look them all in their eyes. “I wish it had been the killing curse. I wanted to kill him. But if he ever is found dead then it wasn’t me, because if it was, you’d never have found his body in the first place.” As much as they might have wanted to look away from him, they couldn’t. He unnerved them all but was just intriguing enough to hold their full attention.

After his family would go to bed, Harry spent much of his childhood staying up late and watching crime shows. That was the only thing he could get away with since his uncle would watch those shows until he was half asleep, and it would be easy to hide in his cupboard and act like his uncle had simply forgotten to turn off the telly before retiring to bed. Given that, Harry had become quite overly-confident in his ability to commit a flawless murder and hide a body.

Some look horrified, others looked on with pity, a few even seemed impressed. But expressions and emotions alike wavered. Nuances in their features cracked to show glimpses of other feelings. It was conflicting to feel sorry for the abused war veteran, to fear his wrath, understand his sense of justice, and gape at the things he just might be capable of, all at once. When things aren’t easy, people don’t always want to deal with it. No one seemed to know how they were meant to feel, but given that it wasn’t easy, they silently moved on.

“Right, anyways. Earlier in your account you said that Draco had been barred from leaving _our_ house, implying that you and Draco live together. Would you please elaborate on that?” The Head Warlock asked at the request of a Wizengamot member who took note of Harry’s choice of words. Under Veritaserum, nothing was accidental.

Somehow, Harry only looked even more afraid.


	34. To Love or Be In Love

Harry couldn't not answer the question. As much as he wanted to just leave it alone, he had to tell the truth. But the truth isn't what anyone wanted to hear. They all wanted this trial to be clean and quick. Those who blamed him were now aware that he wasn't at fault, and wanted to leave. Those who knew he was innocent felt that they had wasted enough of their time. But it was only going to get more convoluted from there because he knew that no matter what he did, so long as he was dealing with Wizengamot, he would get fucked. They fucked Sirius, they fucked him when he fought off a Dementor, and now they were fucking him all over again. It was yet another reminder that Harry needed to keep his optimism in check. Really he ought to be more optimistic, but he only saw the ways his optimism failed him. He saw this as a chance to change society for the better, but look at where he is now.

He looked up at Pansy, his eyes were pleading but he didn't even know what he was asking for. She only gave him a sympathetic look and nodded as if to encourage him to continue. So he did.

"I said 'our house', because we live together."

He wasn't hesitant to say he lived with Draco because he was embarrassed or ashamed, he hesitated because he knew that this would only lead to even more questions, and any answers found would only hurt.

"Why?"

Harry looked up to glare at an older man who had spoken out-of-turn to ask the question. But he had to answer whether he wanted to or not. He saw that the man was genuinely curious, but he also knew that he was once very close to Voldemort and likely the Malfoys as well. The Head Warlock also glared at him, but couldn't stop Harry from answering.

For some reason, a grin spread across Harry's face. It wasn't from pride or happiness. It was something else entirely. It was hurt and sinister. He knew their reactions would be quite wild to his answer and he was almost excited to see their faces when he told them, "Because he's my husband."

Most of Wizengamot gasped. It was a lot more vocal than Harry expected. They all seemed so surprised, a few older members looked disgusted though he couldn't be sure why. Maybe they didn't like the idea of two men being married or maybe it was because Draco had once been like them.

"So, I hope you lot see why I couldn't be responsible for the crime. Why would I send out a hit on my own husband? Much less Astoria Greengrass, whom I never really knew anyways. Even more so, why would I be upset that the children of the people who wanted me dead, turned out to be nothing like their parents? I think it's great! Now, I haven't slept since yesterday at six in the morning, when my _husband_ woke me up, so I'd really like to go back to St. Mungo's and fall asleep in some shitty hospital chair."

Oh how naïve and wrong Harry was.

With the media rumors of love potions and curses being used, this escalation in their relationship only called for further questioning. After all, someone might be in danger of abuse or under the influence of serious magic. As far as they were concerned, a crime very well may have been committed. Especially when one considers that only eight months ago, Draco stood by Voldemort's side and Harry was thought to be dead. Yet they were suddenly married now. From the outside it made no sense. It wasn't a far leap to assume foul play or magic was involved.

"Harry, have you used any magic or potions to make Draco fall in love with you? Or do you believe the opposite had been done?" The Head Warlock asked in a suddenly very serious tone.

Harry only looked crushed. "N-No! No to both!" He couldn't believe they were seriously questioning him. He couldn't stand it when someone didn't believe him.

"Apologies, but you must understand that only a while ago, he stood with Voldemort. This is quite a drastic change and we must make sure a crime hasn't been committed." For a moment, he seemed so genuine. It was as if he really wanted them both to be okay.

"A crime has been committed."

His face fell as he heard his own voice speak those words. But it was the truth. Technically, Lucius blackmailed Draco and used that to leverage Harry. That's how their marriage was made and blackmail was technically illegal. A crime was committed. A crime that Lucius might have been too busy with his head up his arse to notice. He had been too careful, looking into details until he didn't see the big picture anymore. That's where he made his mistake. A crime was, in fact, committed. But Harry feared that he and Draco may also pay a price for it coming to light.

The Head Warlock almost looked confused but kept his mostly-neutral expression. "What crime?”

"Lucius Malfoy blackmailed Draco and used that to leverage me. That's how he got us to marry." He was already far past the point of no return. There was no way to go back on what's been said and he knew this, so he relented. He gave in and decided he might as well tell the story. "Would you like me to elaborate?" He offered. Finally, he had removed himself from his passive role of being interrogated under the influence of a potion. He left the passenger's seat and became the driver. This was his story and he was telling it on his own terms. So with what little control he had, he played by his own rules.

"Yes, please."

Harry gave a nod and a dry swallow. He couldn't remember the last time he had drank anything. Or eaten, for that matter.

"As I'm certain you can all recall, I was once made head of many Death Eater houses due to old law and the nature of Voldemort's Dark Mark. Goblins don't like it when you go back completely on deals, so I was advised to keep some things. I kept what wouldn't be missed, but out of spite, I kept some of Lucius Malfoy's wine. He didn't like that. He also didn't like that Draco sabotaged himself as a Death Eater, took care of the people held hostage at Malfoy Manor, and never truly followed Voldemort. Narcissa Malfoy had also angered him by lying to Voldemort. She told him that I was dead, but I wasn't. She enabled me to eventually kill him. Anyways, he was mad at the lot of us and wanted to make us all suffer. So he dug into old law and found that as head of the House of Malfoy, he owned Draco's right to marriage as he was unwed at the time."

The faces of the members of Wizengamot had shifted. They were no longer surprised or confused. They were a mix of concerned and uneasiness. Everyone knew that this wasn't going to be a happy story. The moment Harry said "Draco’s right to marriage", they all seemed disturbed. They knew this story was going to take a sickening twist.

"He threatened to sell Draco's right to marriage unless I agreed to marry him. I think he wanted to make us both miserable. I agreed because I couldn't live with myself if I was the reason someone was sold off like chattel."

He got a few looks of sympathy, but others were fuming. They couldn't understand how anyone could do this to their own son. For a moment, he felt as if they were angrier at Lucius than he had ever been.

"Lucius made our marriage contract incredibly restrictive. No sunset clause, I control everything expect Draco's personal vault, and instead of divorce, infidelity would result in being tried as breaking a legal agreement, ergo, Azkaban. It wasn't fair and he did it intentionally. He wanted to give me all the power and I believe he wanted me to hurt Draco." He only looked a bit sad at that. He wasn't capable of doing that to a person and he was saddened to think that someone genuinely thought he could do that. Of all things, he suddenly cracked a smile. "For all our fighting as kids, I know I can't hurt him. I only want to see him happy."

There it was. Another hint of shock to hit the members of Wizengamot. They couldn't believe the story they were being told. All that pain and suffering he told of, the anger and sympathy they felt, and now, they were being told of care. Genuine care.

"We were stuck and tired. We were so tired. Tired of fighting, of being controlled, of secrets and lies. We were tired of it all and had no fight left in us. So we just tried our best to make it work. Eventually, we became friends. But now, I ..... I think I love him. And he's told me the same." His small smile spread into a grin. "He's more than just my legal husband, Draco is my lover." He gave a small shrug as another confession was coaxed out by the potion. "I'm not happy with the context of our marriage, but I wouldn't divorce him if I were given the chance. He's everything to me."

Happiness can't last long. Especially not in a tired, hungry, thirsty, and broken man. "I've told you everything now let me go. I want to go back to him. I want to see him and hold his hand. I want him to wake up because I never told him that I love him and I can't live with myself if he dies without knowing." There of all places, it dawned on him. He didn't just _think_ he loved Draco. He was absolutely and unquestionably in love. "I'm in love with him." The words came out as a mumble, speaking most to himself. He wanted to cry. Now he knew, he was definitely in love with Draco but that might mean nothing because there was no guarantee that Draco would survive, much less that he would ever wake up.

"All in favor of dismissing Harry James P-" The Head Warlock cut himself off before making a correction. "Harry James Malfoy-Potter, of any and all suspicion in regards to the charges of being involved in the attacks on Astoria Greengrass and most especially, Draco Malfoy, therefore revoking his status as a suspect?"

"Aye." Echoed through the room. The Head Warlock already knew it was unanimous, but just in case, he added, "All opposed?"

Silence.

Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding as he was released. The same Auror that brought him in, took him back to his office to be processed once more. After being officially cleared as a suspect, he was told that it would likely be another hour before the truth serum wore off. He took a Floo back to St. Mungo's and found that his head was hurting. A terror ran through him but he quickly noticed it wasn't his scar that hurt, but his head was pounding. Probably from a lack of food, water, and sleep. The stress definitely didn't help either.

He knew that outing their relationship could have dire consequences but he didn't care. All he cared about was Draco. Once he was back by Draco's side, Narcissa was the only one still there. They shot each other friendly looks that were laced with concern. Neither were up for conversation. While he was by Draco's side, nothing mattered. Even the pounding in his head seemed to dull and his eyes didn't droop as much. But when he returned home with the parting promise of making something for he and Narcissa to eat, knowing she had gone just as long as he had, everything was terrible. He worried about Draco and about their outed relationship, his head killed him, his eyes drooped, and he could hardly focus on anything. His mind slowly blanked and he frowned to himself. He'd rather be filled with racing thoughts than have his mind overcome by something worse than sleep. It was a tiredness that didn't effect his body, but only his mind. He absolutely loathed it.

The meal was simple and he returned to Narcissa with two servings of beans and rice. They ate in silence and a simple spell was used to take care of the dirty dishes.

With their hunger appeased and some water in their systems, they both felt a bit better. The next main issue their bodies had was the fact that they were both exhausted. Narcissa fell asleep while curled up in a plush hospital chair that was obviously made with the intention that someone might want to sleep in it. Harry fell asleep in a simple fold-up chair with his upper half bend over as his head rested by Draco's hand. He just had to be near the man to get some rest.

They both drifted in and out for a while before they fell into something deeper.

But a cry from the other side of the room woke them both up.

Harry's eyes popped open and he sat up straight, flinching at the almost-immediate pain in his back from how he fell asleep. He stood and took a few steps out, standing by the foot of Draco's bed as he saw Daphne Greengrass with a fresh set of tears streaming down her face.

She turned to Harry and seemed to have lost her breath as her breath had picked up. Her tone somewhat frantic tone displayed just how panicked she had become. "Get a nurse, she's moving!"

Harry nodded and rushed towards the door, glancing around and seeing a nurse standing down the hall. He hurried over to the man and made it halfway there before he was noticed. "Daphne said Astoria Greengrass is moving."

The nurse's eyes widened and he returned to the room with Harry, going over to Astoria's bed.

Sure enough, the woman had an unpleasant look on her face and she was slowly turning her head and wrists, as if slowly struggling against something.

"Astoria? Love, you're in the hospital." He said as he gave a quick check of her vitals. "My name is Kai, I'm just checking up on you."

For the first time in nearly a week, Astoria Greengrass finally opened her eyes.

Astoria wakes up


	35. The Sun Forgot to Rise

Astoria didn't quite remember what happened, but when a few Aurors arrived she managed to give her own account of the attack.

"Well, I was out in, uhm." She had to think a moment to remember where she was. "Oh, I had just passed that shop owned by the Weasley family. Anyways, I had just passed it, crossed the street ..... I was going somewhere. Getting new robes, I think. Yes, that was it. I was going to get new robes when I heard someone shout something that I didn't recognize, so I didn't assume it was a spell. It had been a bit busy out anyways, and hearing someone occasionally shout something wasn't too abnormal. But then, a spell came at me, and then I woke up here."

That was all she could remember.

Harry wasn't intentionally listening in, but he and Narcissa were extremely quiet from where they sat and focused very intently on the conversation.

Astoria had a bit more to say after a few memory exercises. She added that the spell that came at her was like a deep and dark purple mist, just like the one that hit Draco. After running through the memory a few times and focusing on the man's face, she managed a general description.

Skull mask, dark blue robes, looked very professional, had blonde hair, and based on the way he ran off, was fairly young. This narrowed down the suspect pool quite a bit. Well-off, potential alliance to Death Eaters and Voldemort, blonde, and under the age of 40. That actually took out a lot of suspects considering most of Voldemort's sympathizers and allies were in Azkaban, and those who weren't were fairly old.

Narcissa was silent for a while, but Harry could tell that something greatly disturbed her. There was something about Astoria's account that must have reminded her of someone. Nothing else about it was so significant as to upset her.

"Does that remind you of someone?" Harry asked softly, not wanting to draw the attention of the Aurors just across the room.

She tilted her head a bit and seemed in deep thought. "A few, but most are in Azkaban, one's too old." Her expression trembled before twisting into something sad and hateful. "You don't think it could have been Lucius, yea?" Her whisper shook from her overwhelming emotions.

Harry shifted in his head and hesitated to say anything. "Well, I don’t know him in any way that would allow me a proper moral judgement. I only know him for the things he did during the war, and after. I don't think I could really say."

"That's exactly why I need your opinion. You know him worse than I do. You've seen him do things that I cannot allow myself to accept. Do you think he's capable of even this?" Her whisper had become harsh, her sadness hardening into her anger. No matter the future she might have imagined when she first married him, no matter how she might have once loved him, no one came before Draco. Any mourning she had left was swallowed down to fall into a bubbling pit of vengeance. She was hatred in it's most graceful and precise form. For a moment, Harry understood that Lucius could never hope to be as fearsome as her, the woman who lied to Voldemort's face without second thought. Perhaps he had been worried about the wrath of the wrong Malfoy.

Harry swallowed. He wanted to speak but he was silenced by the fiery stillness in the woman that sat, patient as a predator, not laying down or hesitating, only in wait. "I wouldn't be surprised if he had something to do with it but I think we both know he's far too pretentious to get his hands dirty. So it was probably his idea, but I don't doubt he knows exactly who it is."

Narcissa looked up and saw something different. It wasn't quite Harry, or maybe it just wasn't the Harry she knew. Either way, there was a stranger that seemed to much like her, and reminded her of a woman that she had once went to Hogwarts with. She sat up and raised her chin, the posture of being in the presence of someone respectable.

But Harry changed too. His had his own silent and steady determination. Something of an anti-hero, willing to make sure the right thing happened, regardless of the cost.

"I had no idea."

Harry only shot a small smile that bordered on sly and genuine. "No one was meant to."

Narcissa smiled as if she couldn't have been prouder. "You really are a politician." She joked. It was easier to smile now that Astoria was awake, and after an overnight observation, should be released in the morning. It gave them a hope about Draco's current state.

To Narcissa, Harry was no longer a kind and scarred child. He was a man who understood the terrible things that happened to him, and despite doing it all for good, wasn't afraid to use similar tactics. People would only like to talk about the allure of darkness and evil, but good has an allure too. The difference is that the allure of kindness will only leave you trembling and begging _'more, more, more'_. It wouldn't hurt you unless you asked nicely.

"Though the circumstances are troubling, I'm glad that of all people, Draco ended up with you." She reached down to stroke her son's hair. "You're good for him."

Of all things, he didn't expect that to be her next conclusion, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

"Pansy told me that you were made to reveal the details of your marriage. I imagine they'll be going after Lucius whether or not he's a suspect in the attacks." She commented before getting to the reason why she brought up their marriage. "Do you think they'll try to dissolve your marriage?"

Harry gave an disappointed expression. "I should hope not. I told them that if given the chance, I wouldn't divorce Draco. Though I would be very willing to change our contract. I don't like it."

She nodded and continued to carefully detangle Draco's hair with her fingers. "Have you ever considered making your marriage real? Perhaps, with a ceremony or something?"

A small smile appeared on his face at the thought. "I have. But for right now, it isn't something I'm too concerned with. I have a new Ministry department to create and Draco has his book. I think we would need to be in more comfortable places, career-wise, before we could take the time to plan a wedding."

"Smart." She commented before turning her full attention back to Draco. After a moment, a sudden thought made her snap her attention back to Harry. "I suppose I forgot to thank you. Your spell nearly caught the man, which I must be thankful for. Wandless, too."

Harry couldn't stop a small smile from appearing on his face. Though it wasn't playful or happy, it was only spiteful. "I told Wizengamot that I wished it were the killing curse."

Narcissa only shared in his smile a moment before letting her eyes return to her son.

The rain was padding outside and the windows only let in the grey. For as muggy as it was, it only reminded Harry of Draco's eyes. It was almost ironic that it was raining. At the very least, it fit his mood. Still, he missed the sun.

His eyes went back to Draco and he saw it. Laying there in a hospital bed, still and silent, was his sunlight. Still shining soft and blonde. Shining despite the weather.

For as much as the fire burned, Harry only basked in something warm.

Beyond staring at Draco and worrying, he didn't have much to do. He ended up talking to Astoria and Daphne for a while. He made sure they were alright and asked about how Astoria was feeling. She said she was fine, but he could tell that she was saddened by something.

"It's okay to not feel great, emotionally. Being attacked like that can be traumatizing."

They all knew that he was speaking from personal experience, but that isn't what was bothering Astoria. She decided to shift the subject in a gentle way since she didn't want to invalidate his point. "I suppose. I think I'm also a bit disappointed that no one came for me. All my old friends and my family. Daphne's the only one who ever showed." She mumbled a bit, almost sounding embarrassed.

His entire demeanor shifted from awkward and kind to deeply sympathetic. "Our relationships with our family can be very complicated. We want to love them and get along, because that's our family. You were born and raised with them. And now, they're suddenly gone. I know you don't want to dislike them and you don't want to rid them from your life because no matter what, that's still your family. But blood isn't where family has to end. Ron Weasley is like a brother to me, but we aren't related in the slightest. You _can_ pick and choose your family. If they've cut you off like this, then perhaps they aren't worth it."

Weeks ago, he picked up a book on meditation. During his hours devoted to it he had a lot of time to think and understand. One of the things he finally understood was why it was so hard for him to never tell on his aunt and uncle, and why he always protected them from accusations. Because they were still his family. For the longest time, he had a fantasy about getting along with them and not being hurt anymore. Now, he knew how grossly unrealistic that fantasy was, but at the time he was blinded by the hope that it might happen if he just tried harder.

He saw a lot of himself in Astoria. He also knew that it's incredibly difficult to get over a certain way of thinking, and without the Weasleys, he feared the kind of man he might have grown up to be. She needed support, she needed someone to be there for her, and Harry decided that he might as well try to be that person. If not, he'd do his best to stand by her until she found someone who could be that.

The mood thankfully lightened after a while. She thought the scar was funny, which was probably the best reaction they could have hoped for. But it also brought the conversation back around to what happened and her coma. To Harry's embarrassment, she mentioned that she'd been fading in and out for days and that she managed to catch large chunks of sounds and smells. It embarrassed Harry because he wondered if Draco was experiencing the same thing. Not to say he would mind of Draco heard what they had been saying, but he did just confess that he would be willing to eventually have a wedding to make their marriage real.

As the afternoon turned into evening, Harry went back to Draco's side and told Narcissa to go home. "You need rest and a good meal. I mean it. Take care of yourself. This coma is only temporary and it'll likely be a few days before he wakes up. I won't leave his side and I'll send for you if anything changes."

It didn't take too much convincing because she knew he was right and she trusted him. After her unsettlingly calm display of fury, he considered it an honor that she trusted him enough to go home. But she only did so for the night. In the morning, she would be back by his side.

Harry hardly lasted three minutes in the chair before he drew the curtains around Draco's area and moved to crawl into the little hospital bed. Draco's body was mostly occupying the half closest to Narcissa, which gave Harry just less than half of the bed to crawl in to. He decided to create more space by scooting up so that his chest was level to the other's head. He pulled Draco close and talked all evening. He spoke in a hushed voice until his throat felt dry, and even then, he wouldn't shut up. At first he talked about the things that had happened in Wizengamot, then about the attack, about how pretty Draco is, how good of a person he is, their future together, about all the things they could do, the muggle inventions he could introduce to Draco, the concept of movies, how they might really be married one day, and about how he's lucky to have Draco.

"We were both stupid kids who were forced into these stupid roles for a stupid war that neither of us wanted to be apart of. We've both done bad things but neither of us are bad people. So alike, we are. I think that's why we're together. We deserve each other." He pressed a kiss to the top of Draco's head and smiled. "You wake up whenever your ready. When you do, I'm going to spend the rest of my life making you feel loved."

It was less of a statement, and much more a promise.


	36. Sunlight

The house was empty and cold. It felt a lot duller yet overwhelming at the same time. Maybe it was from living in the white and grey hospital for the past while, but all the colors of Harry's sitting room felt overwhelming to him. He couldn't focus on any one thing and it irritated him to no end. His head pounded and he considered returning to St. Mungo's, despite Narcissa making him leave for the evening. She said he could use a break and that he ought to be presentable when Draco wakes up in, potentially, two days. He had just entered his fourth.

The shower was much better. It took him a while to realized that he had stopped washing himself and was just sitting on the shower floor. He blinked and wondered when that happened, but no answer came. Still, the limited colors felt so much better to him. Their overwhelming nature made sense to him, but he couldn't place how they had become duller to him. If his hospital comparison was correct then it should feel brighter than normal. Whenever he pictured his sitting room before Draco was attacked, it was somehow so much brighter. But those memories didn't irritate him or his eyes. In the end, he didn't care very much to figure out why he colors were so different now.

He refocused on his shower and cleaned himself up. It made him feel a bit better and he put on pajamas.

Harry made spaghetti, but without Draco it didn't taste the same. Though he wrote that off as him nearly forgetting to make the sauce, because Draco usually did that. It threw off his cooking times and things didn't align as well as they once did. He was also quite certain that he forgot an ingredient or two.

Sleep was another issue. He laid in his bed and found that sleep wouldn't come to him. For as exhausted as he was, laying there for a solid hour brought him no rest. Rather, he only felt more awake as he bathed in his own frustrations.

Padding along to the kitchen, he thought to remedy it with wine and chocolate. Though he allowed each bite of chocolate to melt in his mouth, the wine came much quicker. Half of the bottle was gone within only an hour. By that point, he was so miserable that he considered going back to St. Mungo's, but he also knew that going back drunk wouldn't end well. So he took the rest of his chocolate bar into Draco's room. He laid there and found a moment of peace. His mind was finally silenced and all he knew was the smell of Draco's stupid cologne and the bitter taste of chocolate. It was enough to finally make him close his eyes and he rested for a few hours.

He frowned when he eventually woke and a shiver ran through him. He was a bit cold. A groan left him as he realized that nothing was the same without Draco. Whenever he thought of the man, the first thing he remembered was his soft blonde hair that stone so bright in sunlight.

It streamed in through the window, and much to his dismay, it was the only thing he felt at the moment. He hated the days like these. Though he also supposed he was lucky enough to feel even that. At least it was warm and inviting, just like Draco.

He could still smell the stupid lemongrass and rose oil of the cologne that was sprayed in this room almost every day. If he closed his eyes, he could almost convince himself that nothing was wrong and that Draco was already out and about, dressed and wearing his cologne, off writing in his book or our with his friends. He was safe and so was Harry. Safe in bed. Surrounded by lemongrass and rose oil.

It sent him right back to their dance at the Yule Ball. A hand on his lower back and in his, held so close, a collarbone under his cheek, neck so close to his lips, bodies pressed together, an atmosphere of their own, music twisting and moving them, Draco leading, letting himself go, release, then to their night on the couch. Grinding, panting, moans, those beautiful noises, the way his body felt, being thrown down, nearly pinned, rubbed and kissed.

His eyes opened and he squirmed a bit to fight off the excitement that lurched from his lower stomach. He wasn't going to let that take him over, not now.

He checked the time and found it was six in the morning. Roughly five days ago, he was woke up by Draco because he was sleeping on his arm.

Even in some vague memory of morning, all he saw was those silver eyes and hair as blonde and bright as sunlight. To think they'd risen together that morning. But now he felt drenched in night. Nighttime used to be his safety. Those who hurt him went upstairs and he could be alone and free. Now the darkness was nothing to him but suffocating and lonely. For the calm and cool of night, with all of his safety, he'd betray the moon for sunlight.

It kept him warm in the winter and colored him gold. Every touch pressed handprints into Harry's flesh, and once, set his body ablaze. Of all things, he yearned to burn. He wished that everything could be just as it was. He'd be the Icarus to such a fierce sight. He needed his sunlight.

Maybe Harry could have both. His warmth and his old safety. Sunbeams used Draco's hair as a ballroom but the moon was always in his eyes. It was everything he wanted.

So there he lay to bask and burn under rose oil and lemongrass, with the sun draping him in something fiery white. His body uncurled to stretch across the bed. He let his eyes close and he took in a deep breath. The peace that came before death sheltered him and he hadn't felt this way since he laid on the forest floor. Maybe if it had been this warm, he never would have risen. He didn't want to rise if the sun couldn't follow.

He languished in the ash and ache of Draco's absent flame for the next few hours, drifting in and out. Around nine he finally gave in and sat up. He knew he needed to start his day. Sitting up provided no incentive and he ended up laying down again. This time he was on his stomach. He went through all manner of sleeping positions, curled up on his stomach, on his side, with his cheek flat against the pillow, spread out like a starfish, curled again like a cat, with his knees tucked under him and his arse in the air. He did everything and would lay in each position until a part of him, usually an arm or a leg, started to feel numb.

He hated mornings like this. Mornings where nothing could will him out of bed. He wished he had a reason to get up in the morning but there was nothing. Not when Draco wasn't there. Logically speaking, he had to eat and go to work, but it felt as if he didn't have a reason. He knew he had things to do that were important but for the life of him he couldn't get up and just to it. Even when his stomach began to growl and ache from hunger, he lay unmoved. Nothing could get him out of bed. Not even himself.

What made it feel even worse was that he wanted to get out of bed. He wanted to get up, get ready, put on something nice, fix up his hair, and be presentable since Draco could wake up any day now. He wanted to look good for his lover. It was all planned out in his head. Every move and step had been organized so that he knew exactly what he wanted to get done and how he would to it. But he couldn't just do it. He couldn't get out of bed. Not when it was so warm and soft. Even though his limbs suffered numbness and his stomach demanded that he get up, nothing was worth leaving bed. Nothing at all, and he hated it. He wanted to get up so badly but it couldn't happen.

Harry only rose when his bladder couldn't allow him to stay in bed.

Since he was already in the bathroom, he went ahead and brushed his hair and teeth. He took a deep breath and didn't want to put on clothes just yet, but he knew he needed to. He went into his room and picked out his clothes. He took his pajama shirt off and pulled on a grey shirt. Black pants and shoes followed, before pulling Sirius' old leather jacket on that he had acquired when he was first given hold of the Black property. It still smelled like his late godfather and he hated how he enjoyed that. It was almost embarrassing, but he had once put a charm on it to it kept his scent. It comforted him in some sad way. Though he would like to put on the coat Draco got him, it was much too warm for that.

Now that he was done, he felt exhausted. He was so tired and he had no idea why. It made him roll his eyes. He just needed to pull himself together and get over whatever was bothering him.

He almost felt stupid for it, but he sat down on his bed and closed his eyes. After a few deep breaths, he let his mind wander. He used to try to focus on breathing or do a full-body scan but those styles didn't work out for him. He felt much better just letting his mind wander around without judgement. His mental narrative ended up turning into a conversation with himself in which he tried to figure out what was bothering him so much. This conversation was very brief as he knew his problem was the nagging fear that somehow, Draco never wakes up.

That's when he became aware of a soft tapping sound. He furrowed his eyebrows and followed it since it sounded like an owl at the window. He saw one tapping on his kitchen window and it looked a bit irritable, making him wonder just how long the bird had been there before he noticed it. The owl released a note into Harry's hand after he opened the window and flew off. He unfolded it and saw a hastily written, _'He's awake'_ in a vaguely familiar handwriting.

He dropped the parchment and sprinted to the Floo, throwing down powder and practically shouting "St. Mungo's."

As impolite and hazardous as it was, Harry still found himself sprinting through the hospital to Draco's room. He saw the blonde was still in bed and the nurse, Kai, was checking his vitals and trying to talk to him. "Hey, Draco Malfoy? I'm Kai, I'm a nurse and I'm just checking up on you. You're in St. Mungo's right now."

Narcissa frantically waved Harry over with a wide grin. "He started moving a few minutes ago. Hasn't opened his eyes yet."

Draco was shifting around, looking a bit distressed. He seemed to be in a physical struggle just as Astoria did.

"His vitals are fine. I'll send in a doctor and notify the Aurors." Kai said with a small smile before stepping out into the hall.

They watched as the blonde began letting out a few soft whines. The noises weren't particularly pained or fearful, but it seemed as if there was something he wanted.

"Draco, love." Narcissa reached down to hold his hand. "I'm right here. I've got you, my darling boy." She spoke with a love that Harry had never heard before, expect a few times in Molly Weasley. It almost made him sad to realize that no one had ever spoken to him that way. Still, he pushed aside whatever those strange feelings of sadness were and focused on Draco. He almost looked shocked at the sound, which Narcissa noticed. Though she also noticed a sense of longing that put a small crack in her heart.

He almost didn't want to speak. He was too caught up in watching Draco slowly come unto himself. It was as if he was worried about breaking Draco's concentration. But as the doctor entered, he began to turn his head, and his eyes gently opened.

The first thing he saw was Harry, who looked absolutely awestruck, as if he had just seen the sun for the first time. He licked his lips and mumbled, "I take it you're going to be wearing that jacket often."

Harry grinned and nodded. He started wearing Sirius' jacket every-so-often when he first got it, but the winter was a bit too cold for it. Now that it was warming up he'd started wearing it more often.

The doctor checked up on him and came to the same conclusion as he did with Astoria, that it was over. He was physically fine and there was no trace of the spell left in his system. Since Draco said he felt well, the doctor decided that he could be released in the morning after overnight observations.

They were left alone until the Aurors arrived. During this, Narcissa scolded him once more, but it hardly lasted five seconds before she shed a few tears and threw her arms around him. "Oh, I'm just happy you're safe. You couldn't have known he'd be in Paris. But I'll be sure that bastard is thrown in Azkaban."

"Mother!" Draco teased with a laugh at her crude language. He then looked over at Harry and raised an eyebrow. "You haven't shaved your face in at least a week so don't even think about kissing me until you do." He sounded so venomous and stern. Harry loved it.

"Yes, sir."

The blonde grinned, "You really should say that more often."

Harry rolled his eyes and let Narcissa dominate the conversation with Draco. He'd seen her nearly fall apart over him and didn't want to interrupt. He didn't feel ignored or anything of that sort, he simply recognized that he had all the time in the world since they lived together. But Narcissa needed right now.

She had that until the Aurors came to get his account of what happened, which ended up being almost identical to what Astoria said. Skull mask, nice dark blue robes, and blonde hair. But Draco, ever the aristocrat, managed to name the exact brand of robes he was wearing. The Aurors thanked him after taking his statement and left. It also helped since it matched Harry's account from when he was being examined as a suspect.

After leaving, Draco caught the sight of his own uncovered forearm, which he was used to being covered given that he spent many months trying to hide the mark that rested there. Curiously, the ink was gone and in it's place were the words _Blood Traitor_ scarred into his arm. He stared at it a moment and he could feel the air tense around him. He wasn't sure how they expected him to react, but of all things, he started laughing. He threw his head back and laughed away. The irony of it was all too good. It was such a stark contrast to the Dark Mark and it sat right where it used to be. It was hilarious to him. But by the same token, he was oddly proud. He was proud that they considered him a Blood Traitor because he'd rather be that then have any association with Voldemort and the Death Eaters. It was almost a new era for him. It marked a serious change in his life, just like how Harry's scar was no longer red and irritated. It turned white and taped off into something much more akin to real lightening. They still had scars, but the scars had changed and so did they. He loved everything about that.

Now much had happened in his time unconscious, so the only news he heard of was that Astoria was well and living with Daphne. He was also told the tale of how Harry was once considered a suspect, but he was cleared. Narcissa very intentionally failed to mention the fact that everyone now knew he and Harry were married. She felt it wasn't her place to say.

Harry went and got everyone something to eat while they spent the afternoon together. But as day turned into night, both Draco and Harry worked to convince Narcissa to go home and get some rest. She looked paler and as if she had been crying a lot. Her hair was messed and tangled and she hadn't changed clothes in a while. Though she insisted she was fine, the boys were having none of it. Draco insisted that it was over and she deserved some rest, but not after hugging her and thanking her for being there for them. They had their moment and she was even so bold as to give Harry a parting hug.

Harry looked surprised to say the least. He tensed up a bit but hugged her back. Something about the hug felt so genuine and caring, as if, somehow, they were family. She thanked him for taking care of Draco and then took her leave.

Draco looked up at Harry with a raised eyebrow but he only shrugged.

"Well, I feel now would be a great time to inform you that I've heard a few things that were said while I was out." He gave a smug grin and watched as Harry already began to look embarrassed. "I mostly only remember things my mother said, but you were quite the sweetheart, yea? I heard your voice, and you didn't shut up for the longest time. So I began to listen. I was able to focus a bit and I heard you saying that we were the same and deserve each other." He tilted his head, ever the pillar of pride. "Romantic, yea? Keep talking like that and you just might get in my pants sooner than you think." He winked. It seemed as if that was all he had to say, but he suddenly remembered, "Oh, I almost forgot the best part! You said you'd spend the rest of your life making me feel loved." He set a hand over his chest and found his necklace under his hospital gown. He held it and watched Harry shift from his chest warming up. "I never thought I'd end up with someone like you."

Harry tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I always thought I'd never marry. I didn't think that was a possibility for me because my father would likely never approve of me marrying a man. But when I did picture myself marrying, I thought he'd be some stuck up man that I hardly knew, with whom my father would make the arrangement. I thought he'd pick out someone from our social class for me to court. Though it's unlikely he would have been from the UK, probably France or something. I thought he'd be unhappy to marry me or think me nothing more than a fuck. I had always resigned myself to the idea that I'd never be married to someone I truly love. But here I am."

Harry looked away and almost seemed to glare at the wall as his cheeks turned red. “You’re worse than a girl.” He mumbled.

“No, you are. You’re the one waxing poetic to my unconscious body.”

He cringed a bit, but smiled. “It was once. Don’t say it like I do that all the time, people will think I’m creepy.”

“You’re my creep.” Draco grinned.

“I’m the creep for telling my comatose husband that I love him, but you’re the one throwing me down and pinning me on the sofa.” He threw back without a trace of a blush. Though the memory made him want to squirm and touch himself, he stood his ground.

The blonde’s jaw dropped. “Only once. Don’t say it as if I do it often.” He mocked.

Harry rolled his eyes but gave a smile. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Now Draco gave a light blush. He stretched a bit, and though he didn’t feel a trace of arousal, he decided to mess with Harry a bit. “You shouldn’t speak to me like this, you know. I haven’t wanked in, what was it? Five days?”

He gave a sort of angry pout. “Technically it’s been a week. It’s been a week for the both of us.” He corrected.

“Ah, then I’ll fuck you when we get home.”

Now Harry’s face was glowing red. “Draco! Shut up!” He sounded scandalized. “You’re in the hospital. Don’t say things like that in public.“

The blonde chuckled and gave a nod. “So what I’m hearing is, you’ll let me fuck you?”

Any and all confident left his body and he recoiled in shock. He realized the implication of his own words and blinked a few times. “I suppose that’s a conversation to have later. Not tomorrow, but eventually I would, yes.”

Draco gave a small smile and shifted a bit, scooting away from Harry. He was feeling sentimental and needed to be able to hold his husband. “Come here. Lay with me. I promise I won’t do or say anything dirty.”

Though the warning made him suspicious, he went against his better judgment and laid in the bed. Harry couldn’t help but to relax when Draco threw his arms around him. He scooted into the blonde’s chest and felt exhaustion take him from the near-week of shitty sleep.

“Harry?”

“Yes?”

“Remember how I said it was like blinking? Like I closed my eyes, heard a few things, and then opened them?”

Harry nodded and looked up at Draco’s face, curious as to where this was going.

The blonde gave a warm smile. “You were the last thing I saw before I slept, and the first when I woke up.” He took a deep breath. “I had a bit of time to think, especially when I was lucid enough to catch all those things you said to me. I’ve decided that that’s how I want to live the rest of my life. I want you to always be the last and first thing I see when I sleep.”

Some powerful emotion overcame Harry and he sat up, looking down at his lover with teary eyes. He wasn’t even sure why he was so emotional, but there he was, nearly falling apart over it.

“I feel the same way.”

That night, before they fell asleep, their lover was the last thing they saw. Just like a sunset, it was a beautiful exit into darkness.


	37. Golden

After returning home, Draco was met with an unexpected shock. Two Daily Prophets sat outside, both featuring Draco on the front page.

The first was about the attack, which he dismissed as a standard sort of news. But the second had he and Harry on the cover, with a headline about their relationship.

He hurried inside and sat on the sofa, almost fearful of what it might say, but that fear only staled and dissolved within himself. Even though it was the media that inspired the attack against him, he couldn't find himself able to fear what it said anymore. Nothing else could be done to him. It detailed a rumor that had come about Harry's time in Wizengamot, when he was being examined as a suspect. The rumor being that he and Draco were married.

The blonde nearly dropped the paper and closed his eyes. After a deep breath, he tried again. He looked over the article and found that "reliable insider sources" have confirmed that Draco and Harry are married, but that the nature of their marriage was quite unconventional.

Somehow, this was worse that if some anonymous source had leaked the full truth. This left much to be speculated and he didn't like the public being able to come to their own determinations. That's what lead people to think that he or Harry might have the other under some spell or curse.

He went into the kitchen and set the paper down on the counter harder than he meant to.

Harry had been making lunch and minding his own business until he caught sight of the paper. He looked shocked and read it over. The anger and embarrassment in Draco's expression made him put on his own look of shame. "I was under a truth serum, I couldn't lie or omit information."

This changed things.

Draco took a deep breath and gave a nod. "Very well, but that doesn't change that everyone now knows about our relationship." He pointed out before glancing back down at the paper. "We ought to clear things up ourselves. I don't want any more outlandish rumors about us."

“I agree. I know someone who works for the Prophet that I trust to tell the story.” He chewed his lower lip a moment, almost struggling with what he wanted to say. This conversation wasn’t easy in the slightest but he knew they had to have it. “What should we say?” There was a lot that maybe they shouldn’t include. Like the details of their contract, so no one got any bad ideas of how Harry treated Draco.

“We’ll have to figure that out together. Come on.” Draco found a piece of parchment and one of Harry’s pens that wrote like a quill. He sat down at the table. “We ought to start from the beginning, withe the wine.”

Draco wrote while Harry watched, and together, they figured their story out. They weren’t very proud of where it began but it ended with something nice. They did love each other. It took months for them to get to where they are now and they’re proud of it. They worked until there was nothing left to be said.

Harry sent it off to his friend and somehow they felt better now that it was gone. It was out of their hands. That made it easier in a way that neither of them quite understood. Though they felt better, the house became uncharacteristically silent and still. It was as if they just didn’t know what to do with themselves. They both had things in mind that they could do, but neither really wanted to move. They were stuck at the table, soaking in what they had just done. The relief turned to terror. Everyone would know. It was no longer their little secret in their private little bubble. It could change things and they didn’t want their lives to change again. It changed once and they handled it beautifully. They didn’t know if they’d get so lucky again.

With that, their terror turned into an appreciation that bordered on obsession. They wanted to preserve the bubble that they existed in. So in their afternoon they became inseparable. Draco picked back up on his writing and Harry held him and watched from over his shoulder. His mouth was pressed to the blonde's shoulder and the body in his arms warmed him. Out of pure curiosity, he let a hand reach up to play with Draco's hair. It was soft and his fingers twirled around strands of hair. It was more like a scalp massage in that his fingertips slid through his hair and teased the strands.

Draco enjoyed it more than he'd like to admit. It sent a shiver down his spine and made him want to lean his head into it. His body relaxed and he sank into Harry a bit, enjoying their own little bubble.

Harry was trying his hardest to take in every little bit of the moment. How soft Draco's hair was, the warmth of their bodies together, the way Draco rested his arms on top of the one around his waist. Even the sound of a pen scribbling and the blonde's occasional hum of disapproval. Especially the way he could feel his lover breath and the way he swore he could feel a heartbeat. Every little thing was just so perfect and he never wanted that to end. He wanted to soak in every little second so that he might be able to recall every sensation. He wanted to lock it all in memory and keep it there forever.

He nuzzled his face into the blonde's shoulder and that drew attention.

"Having fun?" Draco asked as he stopped writing a moment.

Harry nodded, face still pressed to the shoulder before him. "You?"

"I'm having a wonderful time. Though I fear your hand is a bit distracting."

"Want me to stop?" His hand stilled in Draco's hair.

"No. In fact, if you stop I might hex you." He set his book and pen aside, tilting his head back into Harry's hand.

He smiled and let his hand move again. "You sound so posh when you speak. Your accent, word choice, all of it. So posh." He teased.

Draco only scoffed. "I hope you don't expect me to lower my speaking to your standards."

"No, it's cute. Just posh."

The blonde blinked as his cheeks went red. "Oh." Was the only response he could formulate, making the man behind him chuckle.

"So," Now that he had Draco all flustered, he decided he might as well keep it up, "I believe in the hospital we agreed we were going to discuss finally having sex?"

Draco turned to look at him, sitting sideways on the lap. "Now?"

"Might as well. Nothing better to do."

The blonde sighed and nodded. "Right, do you have any limitations or boundaries? Something you aren't comfortable doing or places you don't want me to touch."

Now Harry was the one who was surprised. He genuinely didn't expect the conversation to be so serious and formal. He expected some teasing and maybe a bit of messing around, but the fact that Draco took it seriously was strangely flattering. "Oh, well. Uhm. I haven't really done much so, I-I don't know. Uh. Could you go first?"

Draco nodded and took his turn. "Well, I don't like being choked or slapped ..... not in the face at least. My arse is good for it though." He saw the shock and dark flush on Harry's face and it gave him a good bit of satisfaction. "You?"

"I uhm, I suppose it's the same, expect I guess I don't like being bitten." He added in a small voice. His embarrassment was obvious, but he still took the conversation as seriously as Draco. He simply wasn't used to this.

The blonde raised an eyebrow. Now that the serious part was done, it was time for fun. "Ah, that still leaves so much to be done. So you wouldn't mind if one day I tied you to the bed?"

Harry was shocked all over again. "I-I guess, But why would you do that?"

Draco only gave a shrug. "To watch you squirm. Stop you from fighting back so I can tease you, uninterrupted, for as long as you can take. You'd cum begging."

Those wide green eyes seemed so innocent in such a moment. "Is this flirting?" He didn't even know why he asked such a thing. It came out before he could control his tongue.

The blonde grinned down a him and moved to speak by his ear in a low voice. "If I were flirting with you, you'd be twitching in your pants. This is only play."

Harry's lips parted and he wanted to shift in his seat, but he couldn't as Draco still occupied his lap. "Uhm." Was all he could get out. The noise was so small and coy. But the spark of arousal in his eyes was far too obvious.

Draco smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I didn't think you were so easy to turn on. Probably because we've both been so long since we've came." His arms went to wrap around Harry's shoulders. "Bit desperate, yea?"

"I ....." Harry trailed off, hesitating a moment. "I love you." Was the only way he could think to respond to such a thing.

In that moment, Draco swore his heart stopped. Harry had never said that to him before. He didn't think that the other felt as strongly as he did, but there it was, I love you. He sat there and stared in disbelief before he finally recognized the worry in those green eyes. "I love you too." Came tumbling out of his mouth in a way that wasn't as graceful as he should have hoped and almost sounded panicked. In a passing self-awareness he seemed to regain himself and he went about correcting it, "I love you too." Was much calmer and softer. It was gentler and so loving. "Why now? Not that I'm complaining."

Harry gave a chuckle as he understood why Draco was confused. "Because I just want you to know. While I was in Wizengamot, I realized I loved you because I was so afraid of you dying without me having ever said it. Isn't that such a terrible thing? To realize how much you love and need someone right as you're about to lose them. It was hell. It was a risk I couldn't take. So now that I have you again, I just wanted you to know that I love you, and I want to remind you of this everyday."

The blonde was awestruck. Never in his life had someone said something so warm and devoted. A happiness swelled up inside himself and brought a smile to his face as he shook his head. "You didn't almost lose me. I was there and I wasn't going anywhere. You'll never lose me, Harry." Some unspoken force moved his heart like a leaf in the breeze, right into Harry's safekeeping, so he said it once more, "I love you." It tasted like honey, felt like sunlight, and they were golden.

Perfection, in her jealous form, couldn't hold a candle to the atmosphere. Everything felt so right and easy. Loving was so easy. Maybe it wasn't always perfect, and maybe they'd never be the normal couple that led normal lives, but it was right. Everything was exactly as it was suppose to be and it all made sense. Everything they'd ever done lead to this moment, and although some of it was regrettable, they wouldn't change a thing. If they could choose, they would doubtlessly retake every step, they'd do it all over again exactly as it was done before, and they would choose this ending. They would choose the one there they got to be together because right here and right now was so warm that it made all the shadows of the past fade away in a brilliant light. They would choose love. Every single time, they would choose each other.

There were so many problems in the world around them. So many worries and doubts that would rear their ugly heads tomorrow. But that was tomorrow. They existed in a bubble without time and it reached no further than the sofa. Anything outside of it's borders had no meaning.

All that mattered was how warm Draco was in Harry's arms, and that they loved each other.

Silent arms wrapped around their bodies and they ended up laying down in the arms of a lover. Basking in the glow of their confessions, how warm and stark, they burned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the late update, I've had a lot going on and I just finished my first week in my new semester at uni, so things are a bit chaotic.


	38. Truth

As with any big newspaper, everything is political. Articles about hero animals are political, as is an article about orphans, or natural disasters, even advice columns. So, an article revealing the love between the poster boys for two different sides of a war, incredibly political. This is why Alex refused to let their editor publish the final draft before getting Harry and Draco's approval. Knowing how important it was, they wanted it to be up to the couple's standards.

Looking over it was difficult. Seeing and holding this story, this part of their lives, about to share it with the world, it wasn't easy. They were putting themselves out there to be judged.

Harry for one, was a bit more open about his hesitation, "We''ll become public spectacles. Even more so than we used to be."

"Yes, but we're in damage control now. We don't have a choice. Not that I blame you, of course I don't, you were under a serum. But if you truly trust your friend, which, uhm, they?" He paused a moment, unsure if he got the pronoun correct. Harry nodded so he continued, "Right, they seem trustworthy, this article couldn't be better. But if you truly trust them, then they should leak the story. We'll both gain public sympathy from this and my attack," as it was still fresh in the minds of the public, "you'll gain more support for your department and I can give my father one last hit."

The article was perfect. It painted Lucius for the vengeful and obsessive man that he was, while showing Narcissa as being a victim who was unable to stop her husband. But it wasn't all pretty. It also showed how wary they were of each other in the beginning, how stressful it was to walk on eggshells all the time. Their fight was written as a thing to be celebrated, a thing that set them free. It pushed them to at least be friends. They each had their stories of how they fell for each other. It was their favorite part because they both loved the way they seemed to have chosen love.

Harry nervously sent the approved article back and they knew that within the next few hours, the paper would be mass produced and sent out.

Lucius Malfoy was already being questioned about the attacks, but now, they'll be able to properly charge him for blackmail, as he had blackmailed Harry into the marriage. Thankfully, the article also mentioned that if given the option, they would not divorce. It wasn't the most logical decision for them to have made but it was the one that felt right.

They spent the afternoon in each other's arms as Harry had been given a few days off due to the trauma of almost losing his husband. Still, that didn't mean he wasn't without pressure. In a week the Cupboard Project was to go into it's final vote that would determine whether or not the department would be created. Until then, Wizengamot had a few days of acting as a judicial body for some lawsuits and petty crimes that had been committed.

When counting up the votes secured by Crow and Pansy, there was no doubt that Pawk's bill would pass. But with his department, Harry wasn't so sure. He knew that the attack and the story about to be published would boost it's favor. He also knew that most of the opposition had given up, but he just couldn't help but to worry. Still, he was in no position to try to leverage people to ensure his own votes. Maybe his days of political chess were over. Quite frankly, that didn't upset him. He was unbothered with becoming like Voldemort. He'd used the man's press and political tactics, but managed to get it done without the use of magic. After all that, he was unmoved. He didn't care about the fear and damage he had caused. He didn't care that he doing what the man who killed his parents had done. It meant nothing to him. But that meaninglessness was the only thing that made him uncomfortable. He wanted to be bothered by his own actions, but he just wasn't. He was okay with what he had done and he didn't like that, or at least, he didn't want to be so okay with it. He couldn't be bothered to feel any particular emotion when thinking about what he had done.

One thing he definitely didn't like was the way the thoughts of his job ran through his mind when he should be enjoying Draco.

While his lover sat on one end of the couch, he laid down to rest his head on the blonde's lap. Draco looked up from his writing to shoot Harry a smile.

He rested there a while and soon closed his eyes. There was nothing to be said or done, he just wanted to lay there. But it was all ruined when a hand slipped into his hair. It was relaxing at first, all too relaxing. He let out a soft sigh but a moan mingled itself into it and he sat up in shock at the noise he made. He looked at Draco, who looked quite smug, with wide eyes. "I-I didn't mean to do that."

The blonde chuckled. "No need to explain yourself. Let me do it again."

Harry hesitated a bit, but laid his head back down. He looked up with pink cheeks and embarrassed eyes.

Draco didn’t hesitate for a moment to let his fingertips trace the skin of Harry’s lower hairline, trickling to the back of his neck, and letting one trace around the shell of his ear.

A shiver went through Harry and he looked up again. “I-I don’t think I can do this.” His voice was heavy with something and it made the blonde grin.

“Why is that?”

“It feels good.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. Harry was going to have to do better than that if he wanted out. “Then I don’t understand the problem.”

He only gave an unamused look. “It’s turning me on, Draco. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Depends, is it true?” His hand slipped up to cup the side of Harry’s face while a finger traced his ear again.

He squirmed and another shiver ran through him. “Yes.” It felt so soft and sweet.

“Precious.” Draco mocked, letting his fingers dig into his lover with the soft greediness of Persephone and her pomegranate.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. “You’re fucking evil.” His face slowly moved forward to press into Draco’s shoulder. He completely relented to the thing that made him feel good.

"Of course I am."

Shivers and a teasing pleasure invaded his system. It was all he knew. Though he tried to look relaxed, he wasn't. Not really. The whispers of pleasure drifted down his body and dance between his legs. He was getting just a bit turned on and he was very aware of this, but he didn't want to move. It was just relaxing enough for him to be willing to endure it. But that compliance didn't last for long. A stirring alerted him to the issue and he retreated from Draco's reach. "That's enough, I think." He tried to casually rest his arm on his lap to hide his problem.

Draco only shook his head. "Harry, I'm far too smart for you. You can't hide that from me."

He sighed and moved his arm, not caring to hide it since the blonde already knew. "Fine, whatever." He groaned as he leaned back across the sofa, not thinking the other would actually want to do anything. Quite honestly, he didn't care to do anything himself, so they didn't.

His body might not have reacted the way he wanted to, but he really wasn't up for doing anything at the moment and Draco could read that pretty well in Harry's nonchalant attitude. So Draco went back to writing and Harry laid his head on Draco's shoulder, reading as Draco wrote.

It was a wonderful way of passing the time. Getting to see his lover indulge in his passion was something that Harry never knew could be so beautiful. But it was. He was so focused and that made the features on his face tighten up a bit. It looked just a bit awkward but he thought it was adorable. Even the way he softly mouthed the words as he wrote them was cute. He found it especially cute when Draco made faces and seemed to react to his own writing. But the analytical expression that fell over him when he finished a scene and went in to edit was also attractive in it's own way. It was so overwhelmingly casual. He was seeing a part of Draco that he knew no one else got to and it was important to him. He never knew how gorgeous passion was until he saw Draco wearing it.

Draco eventually looked down and raised an eyebrow when he saw he was being stared at. "Having fun, there?"

"Plenty of it." Harry threw back with a bit of a satisfied smile. "You look cute when you write."

Off the top of his head, he had about three different insults that he could respond with. But he didn't. This wasn't playful or teasing, this was genuine. He almost seemed a bit confused and turned back to his writing before he gave in to curiosity. "Do I?"

Harry nodded. "You make a lot of little expressions, and you mouth the words, I also like how you look so focused after a while. It's just cute."

The blonde's cheeks went pink and he almost seemed to huff, as if protesting his own softness. "I didn't know I did all that."

"You couldn't've. I don't think you really mean to do it, it just happens." He explained with an almost admiring smile.

There was such adoration and love in his gaze that it caught Draco off-guard. Part of him didn't know how to respond but another part never wanted such a sweet look to end. It warmed him to his core and he shifted a bit. He felt so loved and it reminded him of when Harry said he would spent the rest of his life making Draco feel loved. If he was meant to feel this way until his last breath, death didn't feel scary at all. Something told him that not even death would stop Harry. It failed to do so once, and Harry was just as determined as ever.

A few hours later, the Daily Prophet was sent out. Draco and Harry graced the cover once more, this time painted as star-crossed lovers who yearned to be together after being so hurt from the war and Lucius.

They heard the paper land outside.

They both knew what it was.

But both remained on the sofa and decided that it wasn't worth getting up. They already knew the story and were hardly concerned with what photograph of them was used to illustrate the article. All that mattered was that the truth was out for the world to see, finally.


	39. After

Draco spent the next week lost in his work. He was so far gone that he hardly noticed it was already February.

He wrote his book, invited friends over, went to a few of their houses via Floo, but rarely ever left home. So long as his attacker was still out there, the world was no longer safe. He didn’t mean for it to so drastically effect him and he felt as if he were overreacting. He shouldn’t feel unsafe. Not with Harry by his side and not when he’s already been targeted. Astoria seems to have moved on with her life, but Draco hadn’t.

He wanted to forget, he so badly wanted to forget. If he forgot then he didn’t have to deal with it. Maybe he was just avoiding the fear. Maybe this was the way his brain decided to protect itself. By staying inside where there are no attackers.

Regardless, he didn’t want to go outside.

He threw himself so completely into his writing. He edited, added and deleted scenes, reworked entire chapters. He did everything he could. But the ending was his favorite part. He decided that there was no real need for some proper ending. There was no ending conflict needed to be surpassed to end it. He certainly didn’t want to end it right when his characters got together. That was only boring. Exploring relationships can be so fun. It’s amazing to see how two people interact once they’re actually together. How they treat each other, interact, talk, how different they become when domesticated. So many things can change and so many different traits can become known. Like how Harry spent far too much time checking himself in the mirror, or Draco’s ability to take the world’s longest baths.

So that’s what he did, he explored this new relationship. He explored and discovered for ten new chapters. It took ten chapters before he was absolutely worn out. He wrote until the very thought of writing became exhausting.

But that didn’t fix things. In the end he didn’t feel better.

Not until they gave Lucius Malfoy a truth serum and he gave away the identity of the attacker.

It was just some Yaxley relative, a man that Draco might have seen once or twice. It was almost unsatisfying. He wanted it to be someone he knew, someone he could feel betrayed by, someone he could be angry at, someone he could hate. If his own father could be so terrible then why couldn’t everyone else he’d known? Instead, it was a man that even Lucius admitted to having seldom spoken to. He only kept the man’s identity a secret because he felt as if the attacks were some form of justice. He said the traitors deserved to be revealed, they deserve to be attacked. Even his own son.

A comment like that couldn’t be ignored. Especially not in the wake of Harry’s political gains. Word spread that a secondary case against him in regards to potential child abuse was to be started, given that The Cupboard Project will likely be voted into existence next week. It was agreed that there really was no stopping the department from being made, and the Aurors took that as a good enough reason to start up a case.

That made Draco nervous.

He could handle the fact that he wasn’t treated well. He could handle knowing that his father wasn’t the same, and that things couldn’t be as they were. But the thought of Auror involvement terrified him. He didn’t want it to become a legal matter. The thought of having to testify was terrifying to him. He wouldn’t want that. Certainly, his father deserved to be locked up. That was no question to him. But saying he was abused was too far. He couldn’t believe something like that. There may have been a few shady parts of his character, and maybe he didn’t treat or love Draco like he should have, but Draco didn’t believe abuse for a second.

If not for his discomfort on speaking of the matter, he might have gone down to the Aurors office to get it sorted out.

But when he remembered how his father so easily tossed him aside to a man he hoped would hurt him, how unbalanced their contract was, he understood. Maybe he wasn’t abused in any sort of long-term. But certainly, that was an act of child abuse. An act Lucius was undeniably guilty of.

No matter what he did or said, Draco couldn’t doubt that his father would be found guilty. But at least he had his own truth. That would have to be enough.

Harry, on the other hand, was thrown back into politics. Due to the attacks, much of Wizengamot’s meetings were pushed back to make room for the quite urgent and quick trial of the Yaxley man. Guilty and thrown in Azkaban. That left two weeks of work to be dealt with as soon as possible. He could hardly catch a break. Now he was reminded of why he couldn’t wait to leave. Not to mention those stupid plum robes he was made to wear. He began putting on jeans and shirts on under it instead of the proper layers. Most people could see flashes of his normal clothes or noted how thin the robes seemed on him, but nobody spoke a word about it.

During the small breaks that Harry managed, he spent his time buzzing around Hermione and her work. They tended to talk about final details of the department and relationships.

Hermione and Ron had been doing very well despite their conflicting work schedules. Though they both worked during the day, Hermione was mostly gone during the mornings and Ron had evenings. They made a point of having lunch together as often as possible. But by dinner, they were both home. Of course, with the Minister's meetings often taking place in the evening, who made dinner occasionally varied. To her surprise, Ron was actually an excellent cook and she sometimes lingered around the Ministry after meetings had finished to ensure he would be the one cooking. It wasn't that she disliked cooking, but Ron was a bit better.

Of course, only days before they were to get their department finalized, bad press reared it's ugly head.

It was a risk. Really. Saying something bad about the work of a war hero, traumatized victim, a man forced into a marriage. After all the sympathizing stories, he was almost impressed that someone had the balls to go after his work. But unsurprisingly, the man behind the article was Andrew Garren.

Harry recognized him as the anonymous source behind an article published a few weeks ago, dragging Hermione for being friends with Crow.

The topic of this one was that Harry and Hermione's department isn't strong enough. He argued for even stricter and tighter guidelines that made even Harry hesitate. For all the wild theories and accusations against the department, his ideas were somehow worse. Still, some writer thought it wise to interview him and argue in favor of his beliefs. It was almost impressive that Garren found someone who would take him seriously.

Hermione dismissed him. She said he was only looking to have his name on a piece of history and Harry knew this to be true. He wanted to be known but wasn't willing to actually work to do anything worthwhile. It made the man reek of desperation and Harry knew the scent from the first day of Wizengamot, which was precisely why they weren't friends. Even without political experience under his belt, he knew to steer clear of a leech like Garren.

Harry could only sigh and shrug in regards to the story. He couldn't be bothered with it.

"Let's face it, 'Mione, he just isn't much."

Hermione smiled as she continued searching through some papers for Minister Shacklebolt while Harry looked on. "I know. Funny though, isn't it? Louis Luther, for how oafish he was, still made a more serious opponent that Garren."

"He really isn't worth the effort." He decided to make himself useful and looked around at a few other piles of scrolls and papers. "I don't really feel like dealing with him. I think I'll just have someone newer dig up something from his past to shut up him."

She gave a nod and moved on to another stack. "Isn't worth setting up something big." She glanced up to see Harry found the paper she was looking for, handing it to her. "Thanks."

They began walking out of the archives and up to the Minster's office.

"Sort of sad though," she commented, "how casual this has become. It's almost boring."

"Yea." Harry agreed. "Remember when it was so complex and exciting? It used to be so much fun." His old plots of tearing apart careers and livelihoods were something to reminisce upon. For as terrible as it was, he enjoyed it. Without it, Wizengamot lost it's fun. That old spark was gone and now it was only something he was tolerating until he finished passing through his department and Pawk's bill. That was all it was to him now, something to wait out. To tolerate. If he had a new opponent, someone to break down in order to further himself, he might have fun again, but the only remaining opposition were so simple and dull. No one excited him anymore. Not to say he wanted to fight or be challenged, but part of him would miss it.

He wasn't proud of the way he felt, but for the most part, he didn't care at all. Not anymore. He used to care about the things he did. He cared about the effects his actions had on other people. Then he stopped, but was ashamed of the way he had stopped caring. His loss of compassion was mourned. But now, he didn't care at all. Now, it was only a game that he yearned to play. It was a once lively playground, empty and rusted.

It wasn’t hard to find some eager young member of Wizengamot, ready to prove themself. After making the idea of digging up dirt on Garren seem like the idea of the young man he’d spent the last half hour talking to, he encouraged his acquaintance to go after it and see what he could find. When he inevitably found complaints filed against Garren, he reported them all to Harry, who passed it on to Alex.

Alex was quite excited to bruise Garren’s ego. This was mostly because Garren’s friend in The Daily Prophet happened to be a huge prick, and any slight on Garren was close enough for Alex.

Is this really what he's become? A petty and spiteful beast?

When Harry finally got home, he found Draco sitting on the sofa, staring at nothing.

“Hey.” He mumbled as he sat by the blonde.

Draco only gave a nod.

“Not writing?” It was almost surprisingly to see that his boyfriend didn’t have his nose buried in his own story. Or at least, another book.

“No. I’m afraid I’m all burnt out. I sent what I have to Seamus and he seems to like it so far. I just can’t write, or even read. Not right now. That’s all I’ve done for days and I’m so incredibly bored by it.” He said with a soft whine. He hated how what he loved had become a source of frustration and stress.

Harry gave a nod. “Is there something else you’d rather do?”

“Not particularly.” He was out of ideas. There was nothing to satisfy or satiate.

Though it was a bit bold given the relaxed atmosphere, Harry found himself on his feet, putting something on he record player. He turned to Draco with a bit of a nervous expression and held out his hand, “Dance with me.”

There was no resistance. It was all too sweet. Too tempting.

Draco took his hand and wrapped the other around Harry’s waist, taking the lead once again.A hand came to rest on his shoulder and he pulled his lover close while they swayed. It was simple and calm. They didn’t want to really dance. They only wanted to be close and move a bit to the rhythm. It was hardly about dancing and more about touch. They only wanted to touch. It was something to do and it was so satisfying compared to Draco’s lackluster day. It felt like it was what he needed, without knowing he even needed it.

Just a little touch and his mind, busy from the day’s tolls, derailed. He closed his eyes and there was nothing. All he wanted to do was focus on the sensations of touching Harry. He focused on the way Harry’s robes felt under his fingers, the way his hand felt, the warmth that came from his body, he focused on everything about the man before him. He hoped to commit every detail to memory, just as Harry had done when they danced at the Yule Ball. It was so simple and overwhelming.

The songs melted into each other and soon they were moving in silence, realizing too late that the record had ended. Neither knew when, but they didn’t stop. They moved around the quiet sitting room, caught in a dance, enjoying the feeling of the other in their arms. It was so slow, gentle, and perfect.


	40. I Never Meant For This To Be Longer Than Forty Chapters, So Here We Fucking Go

Of all things, Alex ended up giving the story of Garren to a gossip column. For as excited as they once were to bruise the man's ego, the story almost felt beneath them. As if it was so petty and useless that they couldn't be bothered with it. It was similar to the way Hermione and Harry felt about the whole situation. For everything they've done, Garren felt like nothing.

But it all came to a head when exactly two days later, Hermione very passingly mentioned, "You know Garren's wife almost left him."

And Harry only mumbled, "Good for her."

It took him a moment to register his own dismissive comment and he blinked in surprise. It was as if he had just realized who he was and what he had done. "'Mione? Do you think we might have become sort of shitty people?" He delivered the question in a slow and hesitant manner, as if he wasn't quite sure what he wanted to say.

Hermione looked up and gave a sort of shrug. "Perhaps, why?"

"Well, we manipulate people. Regularly. We play around with livelihoods like it's nothing. We tend to not care when our actions negatively effect other people." He pointed out. But he was somehow numb to each point. It just didn't mean much to him anymore.

Hermione seemed to think a moment before coming to her conclusion. "Probably. But what does it matter? We've never hurt someone who didn’t deserve it. It's only temporary anyways, practically over."

Harry nodded a bit and went back to sifting through parchment. They were sitting around Harry's kitchen table, looking over the final changes and adjustments to the Cupboard Project. It was mostly just Greenwood's legal side of things.

He didn’t think about his old work again until that night.

Of Harry, two things were always true. First, that he never had trouble falling asleep. Second, that his dreams were always so mundane that they might as well have happened in real life. But tonight was wildly different.

His dream started off with flashes of different faces. Some he recognized immediately as people he seriously manipulated or threatened, but others he only knew as the little people he had to bump around in order to get his way. They seemed distressed and angry. Some glimpses of a scene showed someone lashing out, losing their job, their family, seeing their life go down the drain, and though Harry’s role was that of a fly on the wall, he knew it was all his fault. Each disaster and each life ruined was all because of him. Nobody called him out or even spoke his name, but he knew it was all because of him and his meddling. His manipulation and threats caused things to fall apart.

He would have woken up without distress if not for the final scene. Voldemort was right in his face, smiling. It wasn’t malicious but a genuine smile. Voldemort was honestly happy. He then commented, “Oh Potter, could it be that being a Horcrux had side effects? Could it be that you, the Boy Who Lived, might be just like me? Or maybe it has nothing to do with having part of my soul in you. Perhaps you’re a perfectly bad person on your own, perhaps you’re just like me. I do love the irony of it, Potter.”

He wanted to say that he wasn’t. He wanted to cast a spell. But he couldn’t. Perfectly still and silent, he was trapped.

“Do you truly believe the end justifies the means? If I killed twelve people to prevent them from robbing a bank, am I really a hero for saving the bank? If I ruin the livelihoods of countless people, in order to pass a bill or save some orphans, am I actually a good person? I suppose you’ll never know. But I do. I know for certain.” Voldemort seemed to shrug, as if he no longer cared. “But it isn’t as if you could ask anyone else. Hermione followed you and now she’ll suffer the same fate, and Pawk doesn’t know how deep you’ve gone. You couldn’t tell her. Then she’ll fear you too. Enough people are already afraid of you, Potter. Too afraid to tell others about your tricks. Fear or ignorance. You can’t tell anyone what you’ve done. Especially not the Malfoy boy. Once he finds out, he’ll know the kind of person you really are.”

Harry knew it wasn’t true and he knew it wasn’t real. But fear knows no logic. Fear is only fear and it exists to claw at your stomach and shake your bones. No matter how untrue the statements were, they bothered the Harry that existed in the dream. This Harry was afraid, hesitant, and doubtful. This Harry believed every word that he was told and could practically hear Draco shaming him for who he’s become.

But when he woke, that Harry was gone. What was left was much steadier and stronger. When he looked beside him, he saw a blonde, curled up, still asleep. The sight numbed him and made him small. He existed only in this bed, and nothing outside of it mattered. He could only feel his own contentment as he threw an arm around Draco’s waist and closed his eyes again.

He had a moment to think hours later, when he was brushing his hair and teeth. It was then was his content mood subsided and thinking over his dream, he realized that he still didn’t care. He didn’t care at all for the people he’d hurt. But this time was different. Rather than yearning for the ache of regret and empathy, he was entirely indifferent to every aspect of it. He was indifferent, shrugged, and stopped thinking about it.

Maybe this is who he was now. Or perhaps, who he had always been. War changes people, but so does abuse. Perhaps there were certain cruelties he had always been capable of, but never needed to commit until now. Almost ruining a marriage, nothing. Destroying careers and reputations, meaningless. Manipulating people, insignificant. Sending a man to Azkaban solely to be petty, whatever. He realized that it all meant nothing to him and it never would mean anything. If he wasn’t going to feel bad on his own then he gave up trying. He accepted it. This was part of him now and he was over it. After all, he had better things to worry about.

This was the day that he was meant to send in The Cupboard Project for its final vote. Really, he was to stand there with Hermione, while Greenwood explained the legal side of things. Mostly the definitions of words used, applicability, a detailed list of different abuses, enforcement provisions, investigations, penalties, etc. Things that Harry understood well enough, but didn’t trust himself to try and explain.

Still, standing before Wizengamot, he knew he should be focused. He knew he should pay complete attention to what went on before him. Yet somehow, he didn’t.

He was over it. He was so completely done. The Cupboard Project was bound to be passed and he was quitting Wizengamot a week later on the day that Pawk’s bill is given its final vote. But instead of paying attention, or even thinking of ways to secure more votes for Pawk, he found himself wondering about Draco. He wondered when his lover would finally finish his book. He wondered what Draco was going to title it. There were a few ideas already, revolving around friendship or reunion, but none felt right.

Twenty chapters in and it still didn’t have a proper title. Twenty-one by the time Harry gets home, and even so, all twenty, edited and completed, were being sent over to Seamus for a final review. Harry imagined the same would be done with however many chapters remained. The coupling in the book had just gotten together in chapter sixteen, though the chapters were quite long, and in Harry’s opinion, didn’t feel rushed. The only problem was that Draco wasn’t sure how to end it. The only thing the blonde was sure of was that he hadn’t wanted to end it as soon as the couple got together, as so many books did. He wanted to explore their relationship and give them a bit of a dynamic. He wanted the audience to see how they functioned as a couple, before he wrote their happily ever after. The idea being thrown around was that he was going to somehow end a significant chapter of their life, write an epilogue, and call it a day. But that was easier said than done. There were so many routes to go down. So many smaller paths to be explored. He could do a thousand things, but wasn’t sure if he had the talent to keep it going or if he should just finish it while it was good. He even considered writing a sequel, but doubted he could keep things going with these two characters.

Despite the many paths he could take, something about it just felt like it was over.

This was done and it had to be ended.

Draco also wanted to take a small break from writing. Given the situation with his father, he wanted a bit more time to himself. To have his father tried for child abuse, likely starting tomorrow after The Cupboard Project is voted on, took a toll on him. Things that he thought were okay, or, were at least okay for pureblood families, suddenly weren’t. Things he had normalized were now crimes. Part of him didn’t know how to process it all. It felt like too much.

Maybe he had normalized some sketchy things. Maybe not everything that happened to him was fair or just, but somehow, he didn’t quite see what the problem was. He felt as if it was already over and he wanted to move on. Or at the very least, he didn’t want to deal with the fact that it happened. He was also a bit angry since it felt like they were making some example out of his father. An example that wasn’t necessary at all. He could name five other pureblood fathers who were just like his own. Five better examples. He wanted them to just let his father go down for plotting the attacks and hiding information from Aurors. This addition seemed completely unnecessary.

Part of him was also very aware that perhaps, he just didn’t want to have to deal with the fact that he might have experienced abuse. He knew this was at least part of it. No one would want to one day discover that a parent was abusive, and their entire childhood wasn’t really as normal or loving as they thought it was. Yet here he was, wondering just how abusive his childhood might have actually been.

Since The Cupboard Project was created, he felt more educated on the subject. He was very aware that physical and verbal abuse existed, but he didn’t have any idea that emotional abuse was a thing. He’d found himself looking at old versions of The Cupboard Project that Harry had in their house. He looked at the different variations of their definition of emotional abuse. He looked at their examples. He saw things that were much more familiar than he expected. Things that he thought were normal, or that he had once written off as products of war stress. The more he thought about it, the further back he realized it started. It wasn’t just a few incidents during the war. It reached deep into his childhood, it was familiar and normal to him, and the war only escalated it to the point of Draco thinking it wasn’t the same. The war was only a scapegoat that Draco had created for himself. That hurt him. They hurt him. Draco was hurt.

He almost felt the need to mumble it to himself, just to have it be said. To say that he was hurt instead of sitting in it, as he had always done.

Things were changing. Only a few months ago, Draco would have preferred to keep his composure and push his feeling aside than to admit he was upset. But now he craved the sound of his own voice, saying that he was hurt. He had to hear it, even if no one else did, and in an empty sitting room, the words rang out. The sound was like rain on a desert; relieving. It was the sound of life.

"I'm hurt."

But it didn't feel as bad as before he put the feeling to words.

Perhaps he really was less upset about his father being charged with child abuse, and was more pained by the fact that he was finally being made to deal with it. Somewhere inside of himself, he also might have been upset that no one had said anything before. When his father felt like humiliating him, people saw the way he was sometimes treated. People saw and said nothing. People saw and did nothing. For the first time, Draco realized that his life could have gone very differently if someone had just questioned the way Lucius treated him, or if they had questioned his outbursts. Someone could have stopped it. But no one did.

Just as quickly as he had fallen into that line of thinking, he pulled himself out. He decided that there was no point in asking questions he knew he would never have answers to. It would only kill him.

Instead, he wrapped his hand around the necklace he wore and closed his eyes, besides the fact he thought this was a terrible time to give Harry a shock of warmth.

Really he couldn't have been more wrong. Harry was delighted by the feeling of warmth spreading through his chest. It let him know that Draco was thinking of him, and at a moment like this, he needed it.

Daniel Greenwood finished his explanation of the laws associated with The Cupboard Project and felt as if a weight had been lifted off his chest. Now that he was aware of just how tricky Harry Potter really was, it felt wonderful to have a debt repaid. He'd done his part and his reputation finally had a chance at reparation. Still, that wasn't his only debt to Potter. He owed him for all his generosity, for all the work opportunities. Debt that didn't involve money was the only sort of debt that Greenwood feared, but here he was, feeling as if he had only just begun digging himself out of a pit. Part of him knew that Harry Potter was probably the least worrisome person to be indebted to, yet here he was, afraid.

Hermione was the only one nervous for the right reasons. While Harry was too focused on Draco, and Greenwood was worried about one of the most morally upright people in the room, Hermione was concerned with whether or not The Cupboard Project would be passed. She knew they were more likely than not to make it through, but after all their hard work, she couldn't help but to be worried about the chance that it was all for nothing. Though she was very aware that their work had started the discussion on orphans and abuse, and educated many people, it would feel fruitless if it didn't pass.

But rather than if it would pass, part of Harry's mind could only wonder how close to unanimous the decision would be. He knew it would pass. It had to. They had worked far too hard for it not to. He was only concerned with how far beyond the 34/50 minimum it would reach.

His answer came when only two people didn't vote in favor of The Cupboard Project.

Harry let out a breath that he didn't realize he was holding and Hermione wordlessly wrapped her arms around him. Some might have clapped for their victory, but Harry couldn't hear any of it. Greenwood might have patted him on the back and said a few words, but Harry was numb to it all.

The only thing he felt was exhaustion.

It was over. It was finally over and the burnout of all his months of fighting for this one thing had finally settled in. People cheered, patted his back, shook his hand, spoke a few words, and Harry went into autopilot while his mind took a step back. He was tired, but not in a way that made him want to fall asleep. It was a tiredness that made him want to stare at nothing in particular until the feeling passed. A feeling that he hadn't felt in weeks, but was suddenly back and knocking at his door. But he didn't have anything to comfort himself. He couldn't cook, eat chocolate, or go outside. For his own mind to try to make him zone out in public like this was something he was both worried and ashamed for. He found himself digging his nails into his thumb in some attempt to keep himself focused and aware of the world around him.

It managed to get him through the near hour of standing around Wizengamot without zoning out in any way that was noticeable. That alone was more than he could hope for.

He took the Floo home and arrived as Draco was sending off the first twenty chapters of his book to be reviewed by Seamus.

The blonde turned and smiled at him. "News travels fast. The Daily Prophet sent out an extra print, only three pages long. The headline says The Cupboard Project passed with forty-eight votes."

Harry gave a small smile and nodded. "Yea." He felt a bit better here. Part of him genuinely couldn't tell if he was physically tired or if he was going to start zoning out again. Either way, it wasn't as bad as it was. "I assumed it would pass, but I didn't think it would be by so much."

"So, after the vote on Pawk's bill, you're quitting Wizengamot to head The Cupboard Project?"

"Yea. I'm quitting. I've actually already talked to the Minister about it and though he said he hated to see me go, he could understand. Said politics isn't for everyone and that I was better off doing something I really cared about." He moved to take a seat on the couch and tilted his head back so his closed-eyes faced the ceiling. "I've even talked with a few people about what it's like to lead a department. From what I've been able to tell, I won't get much action, which I prefer. I've gotten enough for a lifetime. It's mostly just making sure everything is done correctly and to standard. It won't be too much and I'll still be able to help people. I think that's what I need."

Draco sat by him and rested his head on his lover's shoulder. "I think so too. You ought to work on something you care without straining yourself. You've already saved the world."

It was still hard for Harry to process the fact that he really did save the world. Without him, thousands of millions could be dead in Voldemort's crusade for some insane idea of blood purity in wizards. Still, Harry didn't feel like a hero. He felt like a normal person, which was a first for him, and was better than he had felt in a long time. Normalcy was the sweetest feeling he ever could have hoped for himself. Something about being dead made him realize that he hated being a hero even more than he thought. He didn't want to only be the man who saved the world. He wanted to be something more than the fact that he had to be traumatized for the sake of everyone else. There was something much more appealing in thinking that he could spend the rest of his days working on something important to him without having to tear himself apart all over again. He could do good without being harmed. He could do good while he healed. The concept was almost unknown to him and yet he was desperately trying to pursue it. It sounded like a dream and he decided weeks ago that it was one worth chasing.

"I don't much like thinking about that. Technically, I did, but I don't want to be a hero. I just want to be Harry."

The blonde felt a soft smile creep onto his own face as he thought through the concept. "You are just Harry, at least to me."

"Oh, I know I'm nothing special to you." He laughed. "I'm just some arse you didn't like in school that you eventually had the misfortune of falling for."

Draco's smile turned into a grin as he nodded. "Exactly."

They sat in agreement and found that they were perfectly situated in their lives. Both Harry's time in Wizengamot and Draco's book were almost finished. Chapters of their lives were about to come to a close and they were to end just as they began, with Harry and Draco together. Then, another chapter would begin between them. Though Draco wasn't sure about how he wanted to write ending to his book, he was certain that he wanted every chapter of his own to start and end with Harry by his side. He was also pretty confident that if he and Harry were still together by the end of the final chapter, it will have made a great story. And though Harry wasn't writing a book that he could mentally compare the chapters of his life to, he thought the same thing.


	41. Each Chapter Must End

Draco being told that he and Harry need to talk set off many alarms. The blonde suddenly remembered every time he was mean to Harry and wondered if he had done something he wasn’t aware of. Given their history, he was afraid of being mean again and hurting Harry. He loved the way they were now and the thought of going back sounded like a nightmare.

“Oh? What about?” He quickly asked as he followed Harry from their room, where he had been writing, to the sofa.

Harry only gave a shrug. “Nothing bad. I just figured I ought to finally tell you about my work since it’s about to be over.” He paused as he sat down before adding a bit more, “There are also some things I’ve done that I’d rather you hear about from me.”

Draco raised an eyebrow and sat down, his worries being overcome by curiosity. Though he’d never found politics terribly interesting, Draco knew a thing or two about what when on. He knew it could be cutthroat and he knew how Machiavellian the members of Wizengamot could get. But to hear that even Harry might not be invincible to the dark clutches of politics sparked his curiosity. “Like what?”

Harry thought a moment before saying, “I think I ought to start from the beginning. You see, after being tasked with the Cupboard Project I was approached by Pawk. She wanted some help on getting her anti-discriminatory bill in motion. We grew close, got Hermione involved, and began ..... scheming.” He wasn’t sure how much he liked that word as a descriptor for what he had done. “I went from following out plans to forming my own within days. I made a friend in the media, an intern at The Daily Prophet who I knew wanted more. I let them give me an interview and then I tested them. I grilled them right back to see just what they were willing to do for a story and I was not disappointed. Now, they’ll write whatever I tell them too and every once in a while leak information so they're the first to write about it.”

Draco already felt as if someone punched him in the gut. It was the oddest case of whiplash. This was everything he never thought Harry could be, and yet, here he was. But he decided not to judge too quickly. He knew the cause, its importance, and he's seen just what Harry has been willing to do in the past. Though this was a bit different than stealing a dragon.

“I don’t remember who’s idea it was to ruin Crow’s reputation but I was the one who dug up and leaked her failed St. Mungo’s reform. The idea was that no one would want to associate with her after the backlash, allowing Hermione and Pawk to emerge as her only friends so that she would use her influence with the older crowd to get votes.” He only gave a shrug, as if it didn’t matter that much. “Then I did the opposite with Luther, and that _was_ my idea. He had the leadership skills of a sheep so I told my friend to write about how we’re worried about his opposition, so people would read about it and fall behind him, making him a faction leader we could knock down whenever we wanted. Poor thing really thought he was in control.” He almost smiled. “I used Greenwood to end him. I’d given him favorable jobs, like Pawk’s bill, which I also leaked to give him good press, in order to keep him indebted to me. That allowed me to use him to dig up Luther’s crimes. He’s very useful.”

Harry found himself making these strange little comments about people and had no idea where it came from. It was almost as if he were commenting on the state of household appliances, only speaking of them in relation to how he used them. They were objects, not people. He noticed this and for the first time he genuinely felt bad. He felt as if something was wrong. And it was. It was wrong. And that finally sunk it. It changed the way he spoke about people, it changed the way he viewed them, and this realization was what finally made him feel a bit bad. His actions had effected him without him even realizing it, until now.

Draco noticed it too. He noticed those little comments and it struck him in the very core of his being. These confessions were something he would never forget. How could he? Here his lover was, presenting himself for his sins and yet he shows no guilt. In a strange way it was almost impressive.

Harry paused a moment and smiled. “I knew that Luther would get arrested. I knew he’d be thrown in Azkaban if I leaked his crimes. But I did it anyways. I said it was justice, and it was, but I wanted to feel bad about it. I wanted to feel guilty. Greenwood, poor bloke, he thought I was being kind by giving him a job to rebuild his reputation and now he's only scared of me. I should feel bad but I don’t.” He paused a second and tilted his head. “I think I did before but now I can’t remember.”

Draco could only stare down at the man. Part of him suspected it might have something to do with the war. He supposed it gets easy to commit crimes and make hard decisions if you don’t care, or at the very least, have no regard for consequences. Maybe that’s what happened. Perhaps it’s what _had_ to happen. Harry lost a bit of himself to make the war easier to deal with and now he was thrown into the bloodbath of politics, so maybe it only made sense that he would still have the behaviors of someone in a war. Someone trying to survive. It was a jungle disguised in plum robes.

Harry didn’t spend too much time going over the way he manipulated The Silent Seven. He didn’t think it mattered too much but it was still worth describing. He could tell the blonde wasn’t very effected by this news anyways. There also wasn’t much time was spent on the fact that he leaked the new St. Mungo’s reform so Crow couldn’t back out. He didn’t trust her when he wasn't using her. The closest thing to trust that he could feel for her was the way she adhered to the common political etiquette of repaying favors. Instead, he spent time on his own tangent, musing about the fact that she’s unknowingly done so much for him. She didn’t realize she was helping, that he made her fall and built her back up, that he gave her the friends she has, that he’s been using her in a cycle of debt and repayment. He stayed on the topic a while but soon only sounded bored with it.

There came a pause as Harry realized he was the driving force of The Cupboard Project, Pawk's bill, and Crow and Pansy's St. Mungo's reform. Harry had all the cards and he was forcing everyone to play his game. By tossing around favors, he got the Searcy siblings’ support, Crow and Pansy’s influence, and Greenwood’s unwavering subordination. Through charm he got Alexis Wright’s vote. With subtle manipulation he got Crow on their side, not to mention how he built up and knocked down Luther’s career and political party at will, for the premeditated purpose of eating up the opposition, one by one. He had everything at his disposal. He made the game, he gave everyone their cards, and still, he told them what moves to make. He orchestrated a dance that everyone followed flawlessly. At no point was he not in control. For reasons that he wasn’t proud of, he actually enjoyed his work. It was strangely fun. But he could never confess that.

There was something oddly familiar about the confessions. Draco was surprised, but a small part of him also wasn’t. A small part of him so easily accepted that this was the reality of Harry’s work. Part of him wasn’t surprised that the war and his new job would cause Harry to be comfortable with shady dealings. He wanted to be shocked. He wanted to act as if he never saw it coming, but then he’d be a liar.

The lack of reaction from Draco made Harry wonder if his dealings really were so unsurprising, or if Draco was just used to manipulation. After all, he grew up around the elite, of which Harry trusted no one. He brushed it off as much as he could so he could continue telling his story.

“An article came out bashing Crow and Hermione’s friendship, which we got ‘Mione to use in making Crow sway more members of Wizengamot. She played up the guilt Crow felt in someone having their reputation hurt for being friends with her. Then I spoke with my partner in The Daily Prophet and found out the source for the story was Garren.”

Draco already knew where this was going. Given that Harry had a pattern of leaking stories, he could already tell Harry was going to say he was the one who leaked the story that ruined Garren.

“I got a younger member of Wizengamot to dig up something on Garren, then I released it.” It didn’t sound as if that meant anything to him. “I found out Garren’s wife almost left him over it and I couldn’t make myself care about that.” He took a deep breath and for the first time since they sat down, he looked Draco in the eye. He didn’t realize until now that he'd been entirely unable. “I wanted to feel bad. I wanted to care. Now it doesn’t bother me that I don’t feel guilty. I suppose I just wanted to tell you so you didn’t hear it from anyone else, and because I thought that if I confessed to it, maybe I’d feel something. But I don’t. Not really.”

Draco only nodded. “That’s okay. Politics change people and makes them do things they normally wouldn’t. It’s alright that you don’t feel bad.”

“This job reminds me too much of the war.” It was something Harry had thought before, but never said. Now that he’s said it he felt as if he just released floodgates he didn’t know he was holding. A sadness erupted in him and he felt his eyes water. He hated crying. As a child that only got him hurt even more. But he was helpless to stop it. “So much deceit and manipulation that people with good intentions are forced to do. Glad those old wankers are close to retiring. It’s about time Wizengamot was changed. So many bloody liars who will do anything to stop good things from happening.”

Draco taken aback by the heavy and broken tone in Harry’s voice, even more so when a few tears fell down his face. His eyes widened and he wrapped his arms around Harry. “Hey, it’s alright. You’re about to leave and go on to head The Cupboard Project. You’ll be able to save people from abuse and properly house orphans. You’ll be able to do what you love.”

“I know, but Merlin I never excepted Wizengamot to be so much like the war.” He buried his face in the crook of Draco’s neck and took a moment to let out his tears. He wanted it to be over as quickly as possible. “Can’t my job just be to sit in your arms all the time? I think I’d be good at that.” He wiped his eyes and let a soft smile play on his face. “I think that’ll be my new job.”

The blonde couldn’t help but to let out a soft chuckle. “Really? That’s what your new job is to be?” At Harry’s nodding, he continued, “Then you should know the rules and requirements. It isn’t enough to just me in my arms, you also have to be in my lap.” With that, he lowered his hands to Harry’s waist and pulled the man onto his lap. He thanked Merlin that Harry was shorter than him, because he quite enjoyed having to look down at Harry. "I appreciate hearing all this from you. I'm glad you trust me enough to tell me."

"I'm sorry for shutting you out in the first place."

"We weren't on very friendly terms for most of it so I understand why you did."

Neither of them wanted to continue to speak on the topic. It wasn't that they were out of things to say, but more that neither of them really wanted to deal with the fact that it happened or that Harry truly was capable of those things. There was a silent agreement that perhaps, if they said nothing more, it might not have even happened, and they could just forget about it. But there was also an understanding that this wasn't the way things worked and they'd be lucky if these unsettled matters didn't come back to haunt them. Still, that would be later. Now was all that mattered. And right now, they were in each others arms, discussing what they would make for dinner.


	42. Writer's Block

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I don’t have fuckin WiFi. Haven’t in a while. But that’s cool. It’s whatever. I wrote this plastered on Merlot.

Draco was two seconds away from throwing away all higher thinking and slamming his head against the wall until he could finally rattle something lose in his head. Something that would unclog his brain and allow thoughts to flow. Something to give him some semblance of a way to end the story that had both blessed and plagued the last few months of his life. Though he very much enjoyed his writing, it was as if some part of his mind had already finished the book and was no longer concerned with it, which left the rest of him to stare at the pages in hopes that words would somehow appear in some form of an ending.

His characters got together, explored their careers, explored their dynamic, grew together, and now he had nothing more to say but he needed something to draw it all to a close. An "and they all lived happily ever after" was absolutely out of the question. Draco refused to just leave the reader hanging with the knowledge that the characters were going to keep living their lives as they had been. Though in terms of happiness, it was a fine ending, something about it still fell flat. It wasn't whole and he couldn't quite figure out how. The characters had each overcome serious obstacles in their careers and were moving forward as a couple, they'd moved in together, he even had them adopt a cat together. It was a perfectly happy ending but it still just wasn't enough. Everything was complete, everything had ended. It was so neatly and nicely packaged but there was something left to be desired. It didn't feel finished and yet it was meant to be.

Nearly thirty chapters and he was out of anything to do or say, he had no ending.

He got up from the sofa in the sitting room and went to pour himself a glass of wine. That was what he desperately needed. He idly stood around the kitchen as he finished half the glass. Even if drinking didn't clear up an ending for him, he hoped to have something to take his mind off of it. Not to say it caused him any stress but he'd rather not think about a problem when he has no solution.

Harry, meanwhile, was storming through Wizengamot, not in that he was angry, but something about the way he moved had people scurrying out of his way. His shoulders were rolled back, he stood tall despite his average height, he moved swiftly, and the way he slightly leaned forward gave off a sense of graveness. Perhaps it was this along with the way his dark hair and scar intensified any look of seriousness into something that bordered on anger, but people hurried out of his way. He was so bound and determined to get to where he was going, in fact, that he hardly noticed the way people avoided getting in the way of his path. He only noticed the way he was walking when his target noticed him and a look of fear flashed across his face.

Greenwood had never been particularly good at hiding fear whenever it arose. He can put on a mask but in its first moment of penetrating the surface of his attentions, in that new clarity, it would shine through like a full moon on a cloudy night. A wave of cold adrenaline sent his hairs on end as he saw a furious looking Harry Potter headed towards him. In a frozen shock he struggled to remember if he had done something wrong but found it couldn't be true. He'd done everything asked of him in a timely manner and to Potter's standards. But this knowledge led him to wonder if there was a letter he had missed, some request Potter sent that somehow never arrived. He already had his explanation prepared when Potter ended up in front of him and seemed to have a small sort of smile on his face. It wasn't quite happy, but it was enough to make Greenwood realize that he likely wasn't in any kind of trouble.

"Greenwood, wonderful to see you again. If you aren't busy I'd like to talk to you about something, it won't take five minutes."

For the first time in his months of knowing Harry Potter, Greenwood felt as if he had an ounce of control. Rather than the famous and powerful Boy Who Lived keeping him in an endless cycle of debt and repayment, he was able to make a decision. He could choose. "I'm not particularly busy but there are a few files in my office that I have to deliver to a colleague. Really time-sensitive. If you don't mind, we could talk on the way there." Even in his rush of power, Greenwood felt as if his big statement was still as passive as ever.

"Excellent."

The two took a few steps in the direction of Greenwood's office before Harry explained his issue. "I wanted to let you know I plan on retiring from Wizengamot to head The Cupboard Project full-time. I think helping orphans and victims of abuse is more my preferred line of work. I've started talking with the Aurors on how they'll be dispatched and we plan on partnering with them to train out won agents to investigate cases of abuse, it's all really exciting."

While Harry went on about his excitement, Greenwood couldn't tell if he was about to throw up or jump for joy. Either way, something overpowering was bubbling up inside of him. He felt as if he had finally been freed from his cycle but he could also tell that this was all leading up to Harry calling in one last favored. His only fear was that this would be the biggest favor yet.

"Before I go, I want to see Pawk's anti-discriminatory bill pass through but I fear there are a few, uhm. Well. There are some older members of Wizengamot, who had silently sides with Voldemort. I fear they wouldn't like to see it pass and will vote against it. I can't have this happening." There was an heir of seriousness about his final statement that brought Greenwood back to the moment before he realized Harry wasn't angry with him. "I need you to look into the legal histories of a few members of Wizengamot in the Voldemort-era, like you did with Luther. It's alright if there isn't anything to be reported or if it's only something small, I just need something on a few people that would be enough to intimidate them into voting for the bill."

Greenwood was almost glad it was only a bit of research because he was confident he could get it all done in a day or two, which was important given that he only had a week before he had to be in Wizengamot to help Pawk present the legal aspects of the bill for its final vote. It was risky to give him so little time and he momentarily wondered if Harry was doing alright. He typically wouldn't do something as uncertain as this. He usually exhibited a lot more authority and forethought in moments like these but this was almost random, spur-of-the-moment, which was entirely unlike Harry. Rather than asking, he chalked it up to the fact that Harry was about to retire and only needed to last another week.

"Of course, I'l sent you the information by owl in three days." He responded with a relieved smile.

Harry smiled back, thanked him, and went on his way.

Wizengamot was practically dead given that it was a Friday. Fridays are always tossups. They're either busy from early morning to evening with people rushing around, or they're practically dead without a soul in sight. The only reason Harry knew that Greenwood would be there was because he heard from a disgruntled lawyer that Greenwood had been putting off handing over a few files but that he was meant to do it today, meaning that Greenwood would be too rushed to put up an argument or to think twice about the task Harry would give him. Really, Harry had this planned for a while but wanted to wait until he knew Greenwood would be busy.

“Dancing Queen! Young and sweet, only seventeen!”

Harry came home to the sound of Draco yowling the few ABBA lyrics that he knew with the music playing on the record. It wasn’t until he saw a half empty wine bottle on the table in the sitting room that he understood what he going on. A smile spread onto his face at the heartwarming sight of his drunk lover, singing and dancing quite lamely to the record.

“Draco?”

The blonde turned to see him and grinned. “Harry!” He gave an awkward run and hugged him tight. “Hi, how are you?”

Harry wanted to collapse into laughter at how perky alcohol tended to make his lover. “Love, it’s the middle of the day, why are you drinking?”

“Writers block.” His smile dropped in an instant and he looked a mix of serious and upset over his problem.

A small laugh escaped Harry. “That still isn’t much of an excuse.”

“It is!” His eyes went wide and he pulled Harry to the couch to try and explain himself. “I’ve tried so hard, for weeks now, and I still can’t come up with an ending! I just want to fucking end this story and I can’t do it!”

“Why not a simple happily ever after?” Harry’s lack of knowledge in Draco’s personal tastes led him to think this was an acceptable option. In all reality, it was. Many stories can work with a happily ever after ending because endings like that are not inherently bad or cheesy, but Draco’s own tastes and pride led him to put on an almost offended expression at the idea.

“How could you say such a thing! That’s so classless! I’m better than that, Harry.” Draco ended his statement with a huff before turning to pour more wine.

Harry quickly moved to stop him, deciding to cut him off for the day. “You’ve drank enough. How about we talk it out, yea? What kind of endings do you like?”

Draco sighed and thought the question over. “Oh, I don’t know. I just feel as if a happily ever after wouldn’t make the story feel complete.”

Harry honestly didn’t know much about story endings. Only one other kind of ending came to mind and he wasn’t sure if it was quite good enough. Still, he gave it a shot. “What about an epilogue?”

The blonde furrowed his eyebrows. He hadn’t considered an epilogue before. “How do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Maybe just a small bit of scene about how they’re doing years later. Just something to let the readers know that they’re alright.” He gave a small shrug, not really knowing what he was talking about.

Draco’s jaw dropped.

Harry felt a small rush of pride at his breakthrough before he had to quickly put his hands up to defend himself from the blonde that had jumped on top of him.

“Why didn’t you suggest this earlier?!” He sounded more exasperated than angry, and rather than any form of attack, he assaulted Harry’s face with kisses, making his lover quickly put his hard down and accept his fate. “You’re bloody gorgeous when you say things I like.”

Harry couldn’t help but to laugh as his face was coated in kisses. “What the hell?” The complement was a bit confusing to him, but he decided to take what he could get. “Thanks, I think.”

The blonde lifted off of him and hurried into the bedroom to write his ending. Though he had no idea what he epilogue was going to be about and he was a bit drunk, that wasn’t enough to stop him from trying. If anything, his drunkenness only encouraged him to attempt to try the epilogue then and there, confident he could get it done on his first try.

He picked up one of the pens Harry had given him but soon realized that he had completely forgotten how to hold it, much less how to hold a quill. Draco shrugged this disability off and settled for enchanting a quill that wrote as he spoke.

With his lover busy, Harry went into the kitchen to write a quick letter.

Harry didn’t like surprise, especially involving his work, therefore, he didn’t want to surprise anyone in their job. He fired off a quick letter to Pawk, telling her about what he had done with Greenwood so she would be prepared in case Harry did end up threatening or intimidating anyone into voting for her bill. Though he doubted he would need to, he wanted her to know that it was a possibility so she could plan accordingly. Surprises in politics were never a good thing, even when one has the best of intentions.

The response was one of acceptance, though it had an undertone of disappointment. Not disappointment that Harry would go around and do this without telling her but disappointment in the fact that he was so willing to. Part of Pawk felt responsible for the level of ruthlessness that Hermione and Harry seemed to pick up after dealing with her. She was very aware that this was likely something that had been resting inside of them both since the war, but she still felt bad for having awakened it.

Although some dragons are better left to sleep, neither Harry nor Hermione were one of them.


	43. Closed Doors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s 4am. I accidentally woke up my partner because I had this entire chapter written but forgot to post it at midnight.

In the week before going to Wizengamot for the vote on Pawk's anti-discriminatory bill, Harry received three pieces of good news.

The first came early in the week in the form of a letter from Alex. In the few months that Harry worked with them, they got to show off enough of their writing prowess that they managed a promotion. Alex Wright was now chief reporter of the political section of The Daily Prophet. They thanked Harry for giving them a chance and getting them important stories, with hopes to continue working together in the future. Harry hardly had to think twice in his acceptance of this offer, but he felt just a bit bad. Perhaps Alex hadn't picked up on it but when Harry first met him, his only intention was to use them. But he would never correct this thinking. He sent his congratulations and said that before the week was up, he would have another story. A big one. Alex returned with gratitude.

The second came a few days after from Greenwood. It was a full report on seven different members of Wizengamot who were still against Pawk's bill. In the report, there were multiple unsolved cases of unexplained sums of money that somehow came into their vaults in the Voldemort-era. The investigations were dropped due to a lack of evidence but in skimming the documents, Greenwood explained that there were quite a few solid theories. It's an obvious case of the crimes of Voldemort's supporters being ignored. Greenwood even offered up the names of a few different Aurors that he thought would be great for the case, if it came down to it. Harry sent back his thanks and was about to send it, but then, he didn't.

He wanted to say more. He was very aware that he had put Greenwood through hell in their dealings and he wanted to somehow show a more sincere form of gratitude. There was so much he wanted to say and express but he wasn't sure how. Instead, he ended by saying, "I owe you one". Perhaps this slight reversal on who-owed-who might fix some of the strife he'd caused.

The third piece of good news came just hours before he was to leave to vote on the bill.

Draco bolted up from the sofa and into the kitchen, where Harry had been making breakfast. "I've done it! Harry, I finished!"

He looked up to see pieces of parchment being shoved in his face. A small smile played onto his face and he tilted his head. "Really? Watch the food for me and let me read it, then." He took the papers and leaned against the counter while Draco watched him, instead of the food. 

Though he spared the food a few glances, he was much more focused on the man before him. It was at first out of excitement. He was happy that his work was finished and there was a sense of accomplishment that glowed inside of him. But as he stared, he got another reason to watch his lover. Harry was wearing his rugged muggle clothes. His outfit was casual and ordinary by any muggle standards, but to Draco, Harry might as well live in a log cabin. Draco was in his lounge clothes; cuffed joggers, a shirt, and slippers; all the same shade of light brown. It looked expensive. Draco always looked expensive. Being from a world of modesty, expensive fabrics, and fashionable robes; this was almost exotic. Though he would never wear it himself, Draco found an appreciation for muggle clothes.

"What _is_ that fabric?" The blonde asked with a pointed finger.

Harry followed his lover's aim and internally lost his mind when he found himself staring at his own jacket. "Denim." Part of him wanted to ask how Draco had never heard of it, but he didn't want to sound rude or judgmental. Upon thinking back, he couldn't quite remember someone of Draco's class having ever worn anything denim. In fact, he couldn't really remember any denim in his entire experience in the wizarding world. He assumed they must not be part of magical culture and moved on. "They're a really common muggle fabric. It's most often blue."

Draco tended a bit to the food as he thought about denim, his silence letting Harry return to the book in his hands. Denim looked wonderful on Harry though it seemed entirely unfashionable. Part of him couldn't fathom why Harry would choose such a fabric but he also loved the way it looked and couldn't complain.

"This is bloody brilliant." Harry smiled as he looked up from the finished book. "It's perfect!"

The blonde beamed, "You think?"

"You ended it perfectly. Have you shown Seamus?"

"Not yet, I'm going to send it out today. I'm also considering publishing. I'll do it under a pseudonym, of course."

Harry nodded, "I think that'd be wonderful." He gave Draco the book back and looked back at the food. A fond expression had appeared on his face and he wore it a while. It lingered on and invaded the hours before he was meant to go to work. So soft and content with every detail about the world. It warmed their home and put a rosy filter over him. The expression was entirely misplaced when he walked into Wizengamot, however. Nearly inappropriate. Especially given the day.

Armed with his newfound intelligence on some members of Wizengamot and the important of getting Pawk's bill passed, Harry's face turned quite serious when he entered Wizengamot. He started making conversation with people he hardly knew in order to work his way around the room, slowly making his way to the few that piqued his interest. Of the seven members of Wizengamot that Harry was unsure about, five expressed that they were definitely voting in favor of the bill. That relaxed him just enough that he decided not to go through with his threats. In face, he was thankful for it. Making threats when he was about to retire seemed exhausting.

Pawk stood on as Greenwood took center-stage at Wizengamot's for the second time that month. He explained the legal side of the bill and that sparked some resistance. It was quickly quelled when the opposition realized just how unpopular their side was. It was mostly a matter of appearance. They didn't want word of their arguments breaking out and making them look bad. Harry thought it pathetic. Perhaps he wouldn't leave if Wizengamot had been run by more people who didn't think making discrimination a crime was a problem. But he'd already made his decision.

When the time came, he cast his vote. A little regret still lived inside him. He wondered if he should have made threats. He wished he'd made threats. He wished he'd done more.

The bill passed at 40/50 votes.

He was happy, but he was also so angry. How did one fifth of Wizengamot think it was acceptable to keep discrimination legal? He couldn't understand.

Harry spoke with Pansy a bit, congratulated Pawk and Greenwood, then left. He didn't want to be there anymore.

The plum robe that he hated so much left his body for the last time. He didn't want to bring it home. He didn't want to deal with that garment again. So he dropped it on the floor and walked away from it. It felt good to leave it behind, it felt like he'd closed a door. He wanted to feel like another one was opening but he didn't know anymore. There was a whole future ahead of him. Running The Cupboard Project to help orphans and victims of abuse. It was everything he could have asked for but he felt like he was making a mistake. If it wasn't for his meddling then maybe he, Hermione, and Pawk's work never would have made it. He wondered if anyone would be able to do what he did and keep the ball rolling. He tried to reassure himself, since a lot of the older members were going to be retiring through out the next few months. Spring was always a popular time. A lot had already made retirement plans. That would make things easier with more younger people in. Still, he worried. Maybe he could stay. He wanted to do it all because as much as he wanted to trust other people, he also didn't want to be wrong. Things could fall apart and he'd be back at square one. Tom Riddle could wear a plum robe. He didn't want to leave room for that. He didn't want that to be his fault again. Maybe it never was his fault. He didn't ask to be born. Still, too many things could go wrong and he didn't want to deal with another Voldemort again.

Harry wrote a letter. It was a really long one. Maybe there was an apology meshed in between the lines, and if there was, Harry didn't even know if he meant it. Apologies weren't the point and forgiveness would have been a waste of time. It listed out everything he had done and why. It was nearly a manifesto. An apologetic manifesto but he didn't know who he was apologizing to. Maybe to the recipient, but it was also apologetic to the wizarding world in general for what might happen when he left. He felt he spent too much time on that. Too many what-if's and they might all be for nothing. He hoped so. He so badly wanted to be wrong. Still, he wrote. Everything he did and how, and a few extra tips to help the reader make their own little schemes.

He stared at the paper.

With the small flick of his wand, the letter split into two copies. One addressed to Pansy and the other to Pawk. They were the only people he could trust to do the things he did. He wanted them to know the full truth and to continue what he started. Maybe he was manipulating politics but he was done putting so much thought into morals. He spent so much time tearing himself apart for not feeling remorse, feeling bad for being remorseless, wanting to care, getting over that he didn't care, and thinking it was all done only to be sucked back into the cycle over and over again. He knew it wasn't something any rational person would do, but no rational person experienced what he had.

To most, the war was distant and they weren't affected in any significant ways. They didn't understand how easy it could be for it all to happen again, but this time, there wouldn't be a chosen one. There wouldn't be a scarred child knowingly thrown into an abusive home. He was gonna made damn sure of that. There would never be another Harry Potter. He was the only one. He felt no remorse for making sure the world would never need another one.

The letters flew out, waiting for the two when they would get home. He also sent off the evidence about the financial fraud to the Aurors that Greenwood had suggested. Even if it wasn't necessary, even if some of them voted for Pawk's bill, he didn't want the crimes of the Voldemort-era to go unpunished.

Minutes later, Harry found himself on a familiar bench outside of the Ministry. The one where he had first met Alex. They were already waiting on him and greeted him with a smile, “Hey. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in person.”

Harry gave a nod. “Indeed. First, I’d like to say congratulations on your promotion! I’m very happy for you. You deserve it.”

“Thank you.” Alex wasn’t stupid. They knew that whatever the second reason was, it was more important to their meeting. “Secondly?”

“I have a story.”

They raised an eyebrow, slightly discomforted by the fact that it wasn’t something Harry felt comfortable enough to write a letter about.

“I’m leaving Wizengamot.”

Alex’s jaw dropped. “Why?!” Part of them hated the idea and wanted Harry to stay to keep stirring things up, but they were also a bit interested in the potential story they could get from this.

“I want to focus on The Cupboard Project. Pawk and Pansy have been informed of my doings in Wizengamot. I’m entrusting them to pick-up where I leave-off. I listed you as a friend for them in the media. You’ll still get stories about a Wizengamot, Alex, but they won’t be from me.” He gave a sort of sad smile. “Wizengamot never made me happy. I know it isn’t meant to be a happy job but it isn’t something that can satisfy me. But caring for orphans and saving people from abuse, that’s what I want to do. That’s what makes me happy. So I’m retiring.”

Alex blinked a few times before moving to frantically take notes on what they had just been told. The nature of their conversation shifted into something more akin to an interview and Alex got their story.

They thanked each other for all they had been through in the last few months, shook hands, and left.


	44. Strawberry Kisses

It was in the way they cuddled before falling asleep every night. It was in the way they’d wake up to see they’d drifted apart, only to place an arm around the other. It was in the way their steps naturally synced when they walked. Harry felt loved.

It was in the way they cooked together. It was in the way he could share his books and ideas. It was in the way that they were both encouraged and supported. Draco felt loved.

The love they felt was nearly palpable when they shared a room. It wasn’t like any love they’d had for anyone else. Thought it was still unfortunate in it’s own right, they were starting to be okay with the fact that they were husbands.

It was a new and scary thought. It was one that could not exist without having healed a bit. Scary and exciting, they both liked the idea of it. But neither could say it for fear that the other was still upset and angered. The risk was too early to take.

Even though they didn’t recognize their marriage, they were loved and in love.

That love boiled in Harry’s veins until he came into his sitting room through the Floo. Absent of the hideous plum robes, he knew what he wanted.

“Draco?” He called, wondering where his lover was.

The blonde emerged from the bedroom with a smile. “Harry! I assume the vote went well?” He assumed this because Harry didn’t seem upset about anything. But his smile dropped when his lover started towards him with a determined expression. Of course, he wasn’t worried about what Harry was about to do, but he wasn’t sure how to react to such a sight.

He walked right up to Draco, wrapped an arm around his waist, and kissed him.

In their relationship, they’d each been so shy to show much affection. They hugged, kissed, cuddled, fooled around, but there was a fragility to it. As if one wrong move could topple over their entire reality. Their worlds had been crushed before and now that everything was okay, the thought of it happening again was terrifying. But Harry was way beyond that. All he wanted was to have his lover. He wanted to fling himself into love and melt in it. He wanted to drown.

Draco was shocked but quickly stood up straight and wrapped his arms around Harry’s shoulders. It was typically himself that initiated things like this. Having Harry take the lead was a very pleasant surprise.

“Wha-?” The blonde was cut off by another kiss before he pulled away to speak, chuckling. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I just announced my retirement. Pawk’s bill passed.”

Draco gave a delighted hum as he was kissed again. “And that’s gotten you so passionate?”

“Take it.” Harry spoke without having processed what Draco had just said.

“What?”

“Fuck me.”

Draco’s jaw dropped and his pants quickly became uncomfortable as he realized what he was being asked to do.

“Oh? Oh. Oh.” The lone syllable was all he could get out and he began pulling Harry into the bedroom, making his lover giggle.

It grew into a laugh as Harry was pushed onto the bed. He took his shirt off, “Love, what’s gotten you so excited?”

“You know damn well." The blonde answered as he pulled off his own shirt.

Their torsos were scarred. They’d had a thousand sessions of kissing each mark and apologizing. They’d apologized and forgiven so many times that the words had, in a way, lost a bit of meaning. But this time was different. This time, there was no guilt. They only saw how lovely the other was. It was like opening their eyes for the first time and seeing how beautiful the world could be.

Draco climbed onto Harry’s lap and kissed him again. His hands rested on his lover’s sides. He knew quite a bit about Harry from fooling around with him. His favorite thing was how sensitive his sides were. He let his fingers drift over the flesh and watched his lover pull away from the kiss and squirm.

“Draco, come on.” He whined, not wanting to be teased.

Draco continued his gentle assault. Soon making Harry lay back as he shifted to kiss and suck at the sensitive skin. Surprised gasps and moans left his lover as the body under his writhed. Though he loved making his partner feel good, there was also a bit of entertainment that came from teasing Harry. Part of it was just fun to watch and listen to. He'd do this all day if he could.

Once Harry fought off the hands and mouth, he flipped them over and took his own turn. Flipping them over was difficult as Draco wasn't willing to give up his place on top. But Harry's unrelenting puppy-eyes convinced him. He leaned down to Draco’s neck. Soft kisses fell upon Draco's skin as Harry's tongue came to tease the flesh between his parted lips. It had the blonde shifting his hips from impatience. Though Draco could tease Harry forever, he couldn’t wait for his own teasing to end.

“Harry.” The blonde whined, “Just kiss me or something.”

He didn’t.

“Come on.”

The mouth on his neck didn’t cease.

Draco thought a moment and remembered a small and cute fantasy of Harry’s. He once confessed he liked the idea of being ridden. After a bit of alcohol, he said he thought it’d be a beautiful sight and that he wanted his body to be used for pleasure. Of course, there was trauma that contributed to it and the conversation had turned into something vulnerable and serious. But the idea of his fantasy remained.

“Harry, let me up so I can ride you.”

The body atop his froze.

Harry’s messy mop of hair framed his face as he lifted himself from Draco's body. “Really?” There was something so sweetly surprised in his tone. Something so innocent. It was as if he'd just been promised candy or flowers. The child-like excitement that he had displayed nearly made his lover laugh. For as cute as it was, there was also something crude about it. He was so openly excited, without a hint of nervousness or shame, about being taken.

Draco nodded and grinned at the other’s eagerness. He watched the man begin pulling his own pants off, soon laying naked on his back in the middle of their bed.

Naked and eager, the blonde made a small display of the only wandless spell he knew. With it, his fingers were covered in something clear and wet. He kept eye-contact as he reached back to work on himself. He wanted to watch those beautiful green eyes widen at seeing the act for the first time.

Harry reaches to bring forward the hips above him. With Draco on his lower stomach, he reached down to play with his hardened cock. The gentle strokes made the blonde bite his lip.

It was embarrassing to admit how much he enjoyed being pleasured from both ends. A hand wrapped around him and his own behind him. Two fingers were a bit trickier to get it but it was no real trouble. He let them sink deeper and arched his back. A soft groan left him along with all thought. His composure remained but had altogether changed. A pillar, he was, of pride. Now he only vied for what made him feel good. He demanded it. It reminded him briefly of his wilder phase in Hogwarts but something was different. This wasn’t just pleasure. It was love. Somewhere within him there was a joy just from seeing the body of the person he loved so dearly. If he didn’t have two fingers up himself, he’d probably have the sweetest smile.

Any semblance of fondness faded when Harry pulled his hand back to lick and spit on it. Those blue eyes widened as the now-lubed hand returned to him. The friction was so much better. His hips gave an eager buck and he nearly glared down at Harry.

That pair of green eyes gleamed with a mischief so unique that Draco has never seen anyone else wear it. It was smug and he hated everything about it. But he settled for playing long-term. No one could keep up such an act while losing their virginity.

“Your an arse for that.” The blonde groaned.

Harry shrugged, looking as smug as ever. “Perhaps, but you love it.”

“Of course I d- fuck!”

That smug look turned to pure pride as his hand sped up, interrupting Draco’s sentence with pleasure.

But it couldn’t last forever.

The improvised lube only worked for so long before it dried it. Not knowing the spell, Harry held up his hand to Draco. “Cast the charm.”

The blonde grinned, finding a small amount of power in his knowledge. “No.” The impending battle also provided a good distraction to the third finger working its way inside of him.

“Why not?” There wasn’t a hint of curiosity in his voice. He knew the game he was playing and intended to win.

“It’s more fun to not give you what you want.”

The blatant honesty was a bit surprising. “I know. But you want it. You know you do. You want me to touch you, so why not make it easier?” He tan his fingertips up and down Draco’s sides. Slow enough to make the blonde shiver.

Draco clenched his jaw and closed his eyes a moment, enjoying the feeling.

Harry took the silence as a sigh to take it further. “Then I’ll occupy my hands some other way.” He commented as his hand drifted up to toy with the blonde’s nipple.

The charm immediately tumbled out of Draco’s mouth. Just panicked enough that Harry couldn’t make out the words. Still, his hand was now lubed. That hand wrapped around Draco’s cock once more while his other went to his lover’s chest. “Oh? Are you so against me touching you here?”

Draco squirmed at the teasing on his nipple. “Harry, now really isn’t the time to be exploring my body. You know how that feels!”

“Good.” He answered even though Draco wasn’t asking.

The blonde rolled his eyes but his face soon tended up from all the pleasure his body was receiving. “If you don’t stop teasing, I won’t ride you.”

The hand on his chest flew away and rested on his hip instead. It was a shallow victory, but a victory nonetheless. “Good boy.” He wanted to rub it in.

Harry’s face went dark red at the comment, much to Draco’s pride. But there was no time to celebrate as the three fingers inside himself were completely comfortable and felt great. He pulled his hand away and cast the spell again. A brief confusion was quickly replaced by surprise on Harry’s face when Draco lifted up and began to stroke him.

Harry shifted a bit and let out a small groan. Though he was disappointed that Draco was now out of his reach. Shock befell him as he realized what was about to happen, making his lover chuckle. “Already?”

“It doesn’t take long.”

Once Harry was coated in lube, Draco positioned himself over the hard cock under him. “Are you ready?”

Harry nodded, looking away.

But that wouldn’t do.

“Harry.” He demanded attention though his tone was soft.

“Yes?” He looked Draco in his eyes.

“I love you.”

Harry’s heart melted a bit, “I love you too.”

But their moment didn’t last long as Draco began taking his lover in.

An involuntary groan punched out of Harry when he met the tightness of the blonde. He bit his lip and his eyebrows tensed. He wanted to curl up and arch his back at the same time. All he could do was settle for squirming. He shifted as most of himself slid into Draco.

He found himself concerned for Draco’s knees. The position couldn’t possibly be comfortable. Even if it was, he doubted it would stay that way. “Is this alright?”

Draco nearly laughed when he heard the small voice under him. It was rare to see the golden boy so meek. “Of course.”

“But, are you comfortable?”

“I have a prick up my arse, Harry.” He used bluntness to try to make his lover laugh and relax.

He cracked a smile. “I mean your knees.”

“I’m alright, Harry. I like being in control. Just relax for a moment.” Draco assured him as he sank down a bit more.

Draco had become phenomenal at comforting Harry. They were both thankful for it.

Harry took a deep breath and turned his head away. Whines and groans escaped him with every movement. It was a pleasure unlike what he was used to. It was so sharp and heavy. He didn’t know how to be quiet.

The blonde was filled with pride as he slid down the rest of the way. He sat there a moment, getting used to it. Without being told, Harry began touching him again. “Thank you.” He mumbled. He appreciated how much his pleasure mattered to Harry. Part of him was still a bit unused to being with someone so selfless. His hips rocked as he got used to it all. Though he was eager to cum, he wanted to take this slow.

His rocking got Harry to let out a small gasp as his back arched a bit. Small whimpers followed from the movement around him. He knew it would take a while but part of him was confident he could cum from just this.

Draco began to bounce a bit, gentle to start. He was already eager to go harder and faster, but wanted to wait. He wanted to introduce Harry to this slowly. The man under him was so wrapped up in his own pleasure that there wasn’t a moment’s silence. Draco took great pride in it.

“Move your hips just a bit.”

Harry fumbled at first but soon found himself rocking his hips in-time to Draco’s bouncing. Those green eyes stared up at Draco in a silent plea for approval. He had no idea what he was doing.

The blonde gave a pleasured sigh and looked down at Harry, “Good boy.”

Harry’s face was bright red. He tried his best to look displeased but he honestly didn’t mind it. It was just a tad embarrassing. Some small part of him even enjoyed it. He was rarely praised in his life until recently, and somehow it felt meaningless. Until now. “Stop that.”

Draco chuckled but mixed a moan into it so his lover wouldn’t be too embarrassed. “But you enjoy it.” He knew the face of a man struggling to accept what he enjoyed. “Just enjoy yourself.”

Perhaps it was petty of him, but he tried to push his hips a bit harder than before, as if to get back at Draco. Though he was surprised to hear his lover get a bit louder. His eyes widened and lips parted. It was beautiful. Draco getting louder gave him a high, and suddenly, he needed more. He tried to go a bit harder and he blonde got a tad louder. He knew it wasn’t sustainable. But he didn’t care. Draco enjoyed it and that’s all that mattered.

Draco was surprised by how quickly Harry seemed to catch on. He bounced a bit faster. It probably wasn’t wise because he knew that what Harry was doing was tiring. But it didn’t matter. All he could think about was the fact that they both felt good.

Harry was hardly aware of it, but his pleasure was reaching to peak. A small panic set in upon realizing and he froze for a second. He isn’t want to cum too fast. He definitely didn’t want it to be over. He wanted it to last as long as possible. Then again, this was the best he’d ever felt, so he wasn’t entirely surprised.

Draco recognized the nervousness. “Harry, relax. I don’t care if you cum soon. If anything, I’d love if you came. Is that what you want, then? Do you want to cum inside me? Do you want me to make you cum?” He bit his lip and let out a moan. He greatly enjoyed being able to tease Harry. Perhaps it was the bit of power it gave him, or just the way it flustered his lover. Either way, he loved it.

Harry’s cheeks went pink and he rolled his eyes, trying to pretend he didn’t hear it. When he looked back up at Draco, he was caught by the sight of a man in the throes of pleasure. This beautiful and experienced man was on top of him, tempting him with an orgasm. He looked gorgeous and Harry could feel himself getting even closer. His moans and gasps were growing ever more embarrassing.

“C-Can- Can I hold you?”

His own voice was foreign to him and sounded small.

Draco slowed and gave a warm smile. “Of course. Sit up.”

With a bit of maneuvering, Harry found himself eye-level with Draco. His arms loose around the man who still needed to bounce. He could hardly take Draco right in his face. He tried to look away but Draco brought his face back.

“Look at me, Harry. I want you to see me when you cum.”

As appealing as that sounded, Harry did not want Draco seeing him when he came. He had no idea what kind of face he would make. He’d never felt this good before and knew the face he made was probably gonna be different than before. He didn’t want his lover to see him look ridiculous.

In truth, there wasn’t much Harry could do to embarrass himself. Draco had seen some pretty embarrassing faces and knew how bad it could be. And in his opinion, Harry was far too gorgeous to make himself look _that_ ridiculous.

Nevertheless, it was too late for Harry to change what was about to happen. He felt his release wash over him like a powerful wave and he panicked. He knew he was gonna be loud and in his moment of clarity, he made the decision to bite Draco’s shoulder to shut himself up. He managed silence for a few seconds before the throes of pleasure reached their full intensity and he was forced to cry into his lover’s shoulder. Though he made sure not to bite hard.

Draco bit his lip and gave a small smile at the feeling of Harry cumming inside of him. It was a familiar tickle, deep inside of him. Something about it was satisfying. Not the act itself, but the actor. It was the fact that he made _Harry_ cum deep inside of him. There was also a small rush of power from the fact that he did it even though Harry didn’t want to cum this early. The idea of forcing pleasure and succeeding made him want to cum on the spot. He reduced his lovers strong form to be trembling and helpless. Draco held his lover and slowed his movements to a stop.

“Enjoy yourself?” The smugness in his voice was undeniable. This was a victory for him.

Harry was still shaking. He was right in his assumption that this was going to be more intense than his previous orgasms. Though it wasn’t by much, it made a difference. He rested his eyes a moment. The feeling of Draco trying to lift off of him felt a bit overpowering on his sensitive cock. He gasped and bit his lip.

It was enough to jolt his senses and shift his focus. Once Draco was off of him, he started grabbing at his lover’s erection.

Draco was sat to the side, on his knees, when Harry got ahold of him. A surprised groan came from him as he was touched. “Eager much?” He asked as a small smile graced his face. It was hardly enough to mask his surprise. But a sweet shock took over his expression as Harry moved to put his lover in his mouth. The warmth alone was enough to make him struggle not to buck his hips.

Harry managed to get about halfway down before he started to bob his head. He pressed his tongue to the underside and let it rub against the length in his mouth with each bob. After only a moment, his neck and jaw began to ache. He decided he needed a bit more practice. Perhaps he should do this more often.

Draco found himself ever more shocked by how good Harry was. They’d done stuff like this before, but Harry had always been a bit nervous about expressing physical affection. The confidence made all the difference between then and now. He let his moans and gasps fall from his lips, knowing the encouragement it gave his lover.

Harry found himself silently appreciating his boyfriend’s abilities. The blonde could typically do this for the couple minutes that it takes Harry to finish with no problem. But Harry struggled just to get through two minutes. He added his hand to take care of the lower half of Draco and found that his lover enjoyed that even more. He closed his eyes and let himself try to relax. After a while, he didn’t feel the strain in his jaw anymore. It felt pretty easy now. There was a small buzz in the back of his mind that, if he hadn’t just came, probably would have had him aching to cum. The noise he heard from Draco turned him on.

The blonde had his head tilted back and his eyes closed. “Harry, oh fuck Harry. I’m getting close.” Desperation lined his voice. He didn’t just want to cum, he needed it.

Pride filled Harry as he started going faster and sucking a bit harder. He needed to make Draco cum. He wanted that more than his own orgasm. Part of him was embarrassed by the pride he found in making Draco cum. But he also embraced it. It gave him a sort of sexual power that he had never had before. Right now, he was in control. He decided whether or not Draco would cum. It was an intoxicating feeling. The body before him began to tense up and the cock in his mouth felt as if it had just somehow gotten even harder than before. He knew his lover was about to cum. He knew and made he decision to let Draco cum. Now the power was in his hands.

“Harry, cumming!” The blonde warned his lover as quickly as he could but found himself releasing only seconds later. His body curled around Harry’s head and he shook as he finally came. “Fuck. Fuck. Oh fuck, Harry.” He panted out the words as he finished.

His eyes widened when he realized he had never cast a cleaning charm on himself. The feeling of a liquid seeping out of his ass warned him of this. “Shit.” He cursed as he quickly cast the spell on himself to prevent any mess. He also cast it on Harry’s cock as a curtesy. It slipped his mind to cast the spell due to his lover’s eagerness to return the orgasm.

Harry grinned up at his lover as he pulled away. “Enjoy yourself?” He echoed the question Draco gave earlier.

The blonde only rolled his eyes and laid down, opening his arms to his lover. He closed his eyes as Harry moved into his embrace. The blanket was tossed over them and they laid there a moment before Draco became aware that it was nearly time for dinner. He decided not to say anything. He wanted to cuddle for as long as possible.

Harry laid there and smiled to himself. “Thank you, Draco.”

“For?”

“I don’t know. Taking my virginity?”

The blonde chuckled. “Oh no, thank _you_ for letting me.”

They both laughed a little.

Harry snuggled deeper into his lover’s arms. “I love you, Draco.”

“I love you too, Harry.”

“I’m also sorry. I’m sorry for the circumstances in which we got together. I’m sorry for how rough it was in the beginning. I’m sorry that you probably felt like shit for a while and I wasn’t doing much to make it better.” That was something he had been thinking about for a while but never said.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Sorry? Harry, I wasn’t exactly happy to live with you but it was much better than the alternative. I’m glad that what happened, happened. There honestly wasn’t much you could have done anyways. I think everything turned out the way it was meant to. Besides, the past has become trivial to me, at best. You and I have more yesterdays than anyone. What we need is a tomorrow.”


	45. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s my birthday, bitches!!

Anguis M. P. had to be the worst pseudonym Harry had ever heard. Given that “Draco” was Latin for dragon, he thought it would be funny to make his pseudonym Latin for snake. He then proceeded to switch the order of his surname, Potter-Malfoy, and abbreviate. All their friends found the pseudonym to be incredibly amusing and wondered when someone would figure it out. If anyone ever would, they didn't know, but fifteen years into his writing career and no one else knew.

Draco was immensely proud of it. He published six books under it and had done a fair job of popularizing gay literature. That small little stand in the bookstore had become two entire shelves as they expanded to take in more authors from around the world. Not all of it was romantic. Some were coming-of-age stories, YA fantasies and fiction, etc. It wasn't something Draco ever thought he'd see. He nearly cried when he found out. It inspired him to come out as Anguis M. P. on his 23rd birthday. A few criticized him, but his books experienced a resurgence in popularity.

With permission, he also revealed Seamus had been editing his books. Besides work, the two had become good friends. So much so that Draco found himself standing as Seamus’ best man, when he and Dean finally tied that knot.

After a few days of outing themselves as the author and editor of the most famous gay literature in the modern wizarding world, they each began getting letters from young teenagers about how they were going to come out to their families or friends, asking for advice. Draco also got a few requests of advice on love and relationships. Because he managed to land the hero of the wizarding world, they assumed he must know all about love and romance. He found a small purpose in it and helped the best he could.

It was more than he ever could have dreamed of.

Narcissa Malfoy, of all things, took bragging rights. She bragged about Draco’s achievements to anyone who would listen. She would go about how her son had “revolutionized literature for the wizarding world”. None of her friends could ever top it.

Harry bragged about it too, but he was hardly in a position to speak about achievements.

In his first year of running The Cupboard Project, he gave nearly a hundred orphans of the war safe homes. By the third year he expanded TCP to include all species under magical law, not just humans. Soon he was working with centaurs and giants. At one point he had even found a home for a young troll. He also became known for having absolutely no mercy in his abuse cases. Even the smallest and baseless report of abuse got a full investigation. Nearly fifty people were arrested for their crimes of abuse in his first year. Despite expanding to any and all species, things eventually stagnated to a pretty predictable rhythm.

But it wasn’t all peaches and cream. He had to deal with young kids holding so much trauma. He had to deal with the occasional abuser that got away with their crimes. There were nights he couldn’t sleep and days he couldn’t eat because he felt like he’d failed. It tore him apart for a while. He took things too personality. It wasn't healthy. But one day he woke up and decided he’d start measuring his success in how many kids he could make smile. Plenty of bad and cheesy jokes were thrown around after that. But he got good at making people smile. That’s what mattered.

Draco and Harry attended every Ministry ball and stole the show nearly every year. Except one particularly horrific instance when Pansy and Hermione were seen waltzing. No one doubted Hermione and Ron’s relationship. The horror came from the fact that the up-and-coming Minister for Magic was talking with a serious powerhouse in Wizengamot. Harry never figured out what they had been talking about but it still scared him to think about it. It became clear to him when Hermione's opponent mysteriously received little-to-no votes. He wasn't sure how they'd done it, but he was impressed to say the least. Although he was curious, he would never ask how they pulled it off.

Sometimes he still wondered if the Harry and Hermione in Hogwarts would have been proud of who they are today. They'd definitely done some things that the two never could have imagined, but the end justified the cost. It was a fair price really. Success for a chunk of morality. He also wondered if Draco from Hogwarts would have smiled to know the things that Harry would end up doing in the name of politics. He probably would have. And the Sorting Hat would have frowned in the regret for not putting Harry in Slytherin. Maybe it could have changed everything if he had been put in Slytherin. He decided that if he could go back, he'd try it out just to see what would change. He didn't regret voicing his preference, though.

They were each riding a high on life. But as it does, life has a way of keeping people grounded. Draco’s grounding came in the form of his father.

Wizengamot was adamant about prosecuting Lucius Malfoy for abuse, based the comments he made against Draco while he was being suspected of responsibility for the attacks on “traitor” purebloods, all those years ago. It took them a long time to build a solid case. Lo and behold, they used a lot of muggle information on abuse to formulate their case. They pulled out examples of what abuse can look like, how it can manifest itself, it’s effects, and signs of an abuser. Witnesses came forward with small yet very off-putting stories of how Lucius had treated his wife and son. In the end, the general consensus was to lock Lucius away. Less for abuse and more for being complicit in genocide with Voldemort.

Draco hated every moment of it.

He was very aware that it was all just a front to lock his father away for entirely unrelated crimes. But still, he got through it. He got through every interview, every court date, every testimony, and every news article. He got through it all.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about it all when he came out on the other side. All that, just to put his father away for something unrelated to what he suffered through in his youth. He didn’t know if he was suppose to feel happy, but he didn’t. At first he felt pretty shitty. Then, confused. His father ended up another memory that never found its way back to the forefront of his mind. Finally, he felt happy about it. It took him a long time to get there, but he did. He was glad his father was away. Though he didn’t talk about it, it also made him feel safer. He spent a long time worrying about his safety during the war, then at Harry’s house, and finally on the streets. All because of the things Lucius had done to him. With his father gone, he felt safe again. His safety felt nearly unconditional. He didn’t know that was possible. But it also saddened him to think that for most of his life, he had been so scared without even realizing it.

Two spring weddings followed the closing of that dark chapter of Draco’s life. Blaise Zambi ended up marry a man he had been with for a few years. They’d met in Paris, took in a few dogs together, and Blaise’s husband runs a bakery. It took everything in Draco not to scoff at how cliche it was. But he was also very happy for one of his best friends.

Despite their distinguished careers, Hermione and Ron were the next to get married. After a few months of Hermione getting on as Minister for Magic, Ron was given his first extended vacation. Auror missions can last months as a time, so agents are often given a few weeks off between jobs. His latest had lasted nearly half a year and he was given three months off to compensate. They took that time to finally get married.

It was a beautiful autumn wedding.

It made Harry think.

He thought about himself and Draco. Legally, they were husbands. Legally, they ought to have been celebrating their wedding anniversaries for the last five years. But they didn’t. And they had never introduced the other as their husband, even though their situation was common knowledge by then. In every way that mattered, they were boyfriends. But Harry wanted to be more than that. He wanted to be married to Draco in a way that meant more than some silly certificate. He wanted a ceremony.

Part of him felt ridiculous and girlish for putting such an importance on a ring and a wedding. But after seeing his friends get married in front of everyone they loved, it made him realize that he wanted that as well. He didn’t want to keep calling Draco his “boyfriend”, and he didn’t want them to just decide to change the word to “husband” without it really meaning anything.

Thankfully, he drank just enough at Hermione and Ron’s wedding to make himself open up about it.

Draco was surprised, to say the least.

Of course he’d always wanted a proper ceremony, but didn’t think Harry would care too much about that stuff, so he never asked. He had felt just as silly as Harry. Even more so when he realized Harry wanted the exact same thing as him.

They agreed that they didn’t quite need rings. Their matching necklaces that burned with magic were more than enough for them. But they still had the wedding they’d always wanted. Draco handled decorating, with Harry’s input and opinions in mind, while Harry mostly focused on the technical stuff like invitations and setting dates. Draco wore the traditional dark wedding robes and a few family heirlooms while Harry managed a more modern muggle suit. The blonde nearly despised the way his husband managed to pull off a floral jacket. But they each found the other immensely beautiful in their respective dress.

Friends and family gathered to watch the small wedding in southern France, obviously Draco’s choice. The ceremony and reception were both outdoors. They both agreed that they wanted to take advantage of the weather rather than find a building they both happened to like. Planning out the floral decorations were especially fun, but it wasn’t until the ceremony that Draco realized his husband had definitely been thinking ahead. Harry’s suit jacket matched the flowers around them perfectly.

Music played and people danced for hours. Draco and Harry most of all. Both were eager to show-off the muggle music that they had taken a liking to together, mainly ABBA. But they were sure to play plenty of music by wizard artists as to not make the majority of their guests feel alienated.

The food was delicious though a lot more posh than the other aspects of their wedding. Draco was very adamant about the menu, for some reason. He insisted that they serve traditional dishes and Harry didn’t quite care. When he saw the list of foods were all French, Harry wasn’t surprised in the slightest. He found it oddly endearing. Draco had been raised in and very much admired French culture. But that was one thing that was difficult for the blonde to share with Harry. They can share books, necklaces, music, but culture was a bit more abstract. So with every holiday, and now their own wedding, Draco found his own ways to share this part of himself. Harry couldn’t name most of the food but he enjoyed every bit of it.

After that day, they never referred to the other as “boyfriend” again. Though they had technically been married for years, they were finally husbands in the only way that mattered.

“I suppose this means we’re officially married.”

Anyone else would have thought that Draco had just misspoken. But Harry knew. He knew the word choice was entirely intentional.

“I guess we are.” He smiled. “Took us long enough.”

The blonde let out a small laugh. “To think, most of our friends got around to it first.”

“Now we’re just waiting on Pansy, yea? She still with that lycanthrope?”

“I don’t think you could separate them with a crowbar. She’s getting closer and closer to proposing, assuming he doesn’t.”

Harry gave a nod before shooting his husband a sly smile. “I give it until October.”

Draco smirked. “At least December, you’re on.”

Even in their late twenties, as two grown adults, finally married to each other; their childish rivalries would never really be set aside. But now it was genuinely in good fun. Though that doesn’t change the fact that they were both wrong. Pansy proposed in November and their wedding is set for June.

Life felt so much quieter after they married. No more evil, secrets, politics, shitty family. It had all stopped. Now they only had their careers, friends, and each other. It was a much quieter life than either of them expected. But it was also much better and much more ideal than they ever could have imagined.

Neither ever thought a quiet life was for them. But now that they were living it, it felt right. It felt soft. It was safe and warm. That was how they knew they were loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god I can’t believe I’m finished. Don’t really know what I’m suppose to do with myself now that my fic is done, lol. I hope you all enjoyed it!


End file.
